The Retreat
by MrsMCrieff
Summary: Sherlock is looking for a way to make Molly his but is involving her in solving crimes the best or safest way to go about it?
1. Chapter 1

**So I'm back with another new story. This one is a winter fic so although I drafted most of it out in Spring it just felt wrong posting it over summer so it had to wait until now. I hope you enjoy it. We'll start out on a T rating and see how we go on though I suspect it will move to an M rating eventually or I'll do as I've done in the past and highlight the M bits or post separate T and M chapters.**

 **As ever I own nothing but owe it all to Arthur C-D, Steven M and Mark G. I am forever grateful that they share(d) their talents with the world.**

 **Chapter 1**

Sherlock couldn't quite pinpoint the moment it had happened; his normally impeccable mind palace letting him down for once. It was like a virus in his mind and he couldn't root it out. He had thought that if he could fix on the moment, the hour, the second, it had started he could delete it and everything would be OK. So he had spent hours, sometimes it felt like days, in his mind palace back tracking over every interaction, every conversation trying to find the start of it, but it was all to no avail.

At one point he had thought it had started with jealousy over Tim...Toby...Tom, well whatever his name was, but no it was earlier than that, he'd trusted her, he'd always trusted her, so before then, before the fall. Jealousy over Moriarty? Maybe. He felt that had definitely had something to do with it. She was his, the thought of **him** being anywhere near her made his stomach turn and his blood boil. It hadn't bothered him at the time though, but then at the time he had just thought 'Jim' was a gay guy from IT looking for 'a beard' for some reason. He had known it wouldn't last, there was no threat there. No the feeling of possessiveness had come later when he'd realised who 'Jim' was.

Trouble was now he knew that the virus was there and try as he might he couldn't eradicate it. He had finally recognised what this feeling was when Molly had slapped him across the face following his foray into drug use for the Charles Magnussen case. He had known deep down that he felt disgruntled over her engagement when she had refused to have fish and chips with him shortly after his return. He'd chalked that up to his own ego being piqued at her choosing to spend time with someone else over him. Then he'd met him...Todd, Ted...whatever, he had met him and seen an element of himself reflected back and although he'd been irritated at first he was soon strangely happy, because that meant she still wanted him, she was still his and somehow that was important.

Then had come that day when John had found him in the drugs den. He'd known deep down that what he was doing was stupid and risky, he'd justified it to himself that there was no other way, that making drugs his weak spot would work to his advantage later with Magnussen. But on reflection he had been lonely and bored and the lure of the drugs had been too strong. It hadn't been worth it though. The look of disappointment and disgust on Molly's face had almost broken him.

He hadn't shown it though. No, he'd typically hit back with a barb about her failed engagement but that was only to cover the pain he'd felt at failing her and that was when he knew he felt more than friendship for her.

He'd ignored it at first thinking it would go away but she had been the first person he'd thought of at the moment that he'd been shot. It was her he trusted and her he'd wanted to hear. He'd wanted her face to be the last he saw as he faded into blackness.

When he was recovering he had half hoped she would come to him, nurse him, but when push had come to shove and he'd awoken to find her quietly sitting by his bedside he'd lashed out once more, throwing her own compassion and caring back in her face. He regretted what he'd said and done quite quickly, but he'd been scared, scared of what he might say in a moment of vulnerability and where that might lead and he hadn't been ready.

He still wasn't sure he was ready but he couldn't get her out of his mind, out of his heart and it was becoming unbearable.

The worst time had been Christmas, not because of the 'holiday season' or any other mawkish nonsense. No Christmas had been when he'd shot another man dead in cold blood. He'd gone over and over it in the time since and he was satisfied that there had been no other way but it had almost had him sent on a one-way mission that he would never come back from.

Even his brother couldn't help him this time and he had got on that plane thinking he would never return, never see her face again. He hadn't been able to say goodbye to her, he had known that no matter how stoic he could appear to John, Molly would see right through him. She always had. He was surprised she hadn't yet seen how he felt about her but he put that down to her innate lack of self-belief when it came to him. She didn't think he would ever love her so she couldn't see it even when it was right in front of her.

When the call had come through, mere minutes after the plane had taken off, signalling his return the one thought on his mind was Molly. He could no longer do nothing, he had to be with her, but how, when? Was it safe for her if Moriarty were back? These were the thoughts that plagued his mind and yet he knew if he prevaricated that there would always be something, some reason for them not to be together. He knew being with her was selfish, he wouldn't be a good partner by any stretch of the imagination and on top of that she could become a target but not being with her was now more of a distraction than the alternative.

So what should he do now? Walk into Barts with a bunch of flowers and ask her out? Apart from the fact that it wasn't his style, after all these years of rejection from him she would probably laugh in his face, let him see what it was like to be humiliated and rejected for once. Whilst he agreed he probably deserved it he couldn't quite bring himself to actually suffer it.

No he needed to be more subtle than that, to lay out the groundwork more carefully, work himself into a position where it just happened naturally without having to debase himself into making some embarrassingly sentimental speech. He just needed to wait for the right opportunity to present itself.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

It took a few weeks but present itself it did. Normally this type of case wouldn't have even warranted a second read but Sherlock immediately saw the potential.

John was gobsmacked to say the least. 'This case! This is the one that interests you. It's barely even a five.'

Sherlock was keen to not let John realise the real reason but it was easy enough to pull the wool over his eyes, 'as normal John you see but do not observe.'

'Well I hope you realise that I can't and won't come with you. Mary only had Elizabeth two weeks ago and it's far too early for me to be leaving them for any substantial length of time. You'll have to go alone.'

Sherlock frowned, 'you know I can't do that, I need an assistant. Anyway you wouldn't be appropriate.'

John tilted his head, 'why?'

'I need to be undercover and whilst we could pose as a gay couple I'm not sure you would be able to be convincing enough.'

John narrowed his eyes at this, thinking through the implications of Sherlock being able to carry it off but before he could say anything Sherlock continued.

'There's only one person suitable, it will have to be Molly.'

John spluttered, 'Molly...Molly Hooper...'

Now it was Sherlock's turn to look confused, 'yes, Molly Hooper. I fail to see why that is amusing you...and I do wish you would stop repeating what I'm saying it makes you look even more idiotic than normal.'

'Right, well, thanks for that Sherlock!'

Sherlock stood up and made his way over to where his coat and scarf were hung up.

'Where are you off too?' John stood watching him.

'Off to Barts, no time like the present John, there's a case to be solved.'

John picked up his own coat and started putting it on. Sherlock frowned as he looked at him, 'where are you going?'

'Oh, I'm coming with you. I wouldn't miss this conversation for the world.' Sherlock just huffed but led the way out.

MHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMH

They found Molly behind a pile of paperwork in the lab, she almost looked relieved to see them; giving her a chance, as it did, to take a break.

'Hi John, Sherlock. What do you need?'

John leant on a nearby table, arms folded and a smirk on his face as he watched Sherlock walk up to Molly with his hands clasped behind his back.

'I have a case and I need you to accompany me Molly, it's based up on Saddleworth moor which is just outside Manchester. Obviously with Mary having recently given birth John doesn't feel able to assist.'

'What? No, Sherlock I can't just up and leave everything. In case you hadn't noticed I have a job, a life, not to mention Toby, my cat, would need looking after.'

'You have plenty of holidays owing to you; I overheard Mike only last week reprimanding you because it needs using up. I've already arranged for Mrs Hudson to look after Toby, she's quite keen, as for you having a life...'

Molly held up her hand, 'for the sake of our friendship Sherlock I suggest you stop right there.' She closed her eyes for a moment and sighed, 'Well, when are you looking to go and for how long?'

'We would need to leave tomorrow. It should only be for a couple of days but pack for a week just in case. I spoke to Mike on my way in and he's agreed. Be at Baker St. with Toby by 9.00am.'

Molly rubbed a hand across her face trying not to feel to frustrated with him, 'you spoke to Mike...yes of course you did...OK fine, send me a link to where we're going so I know what kind of things I need to pack.'

Sherlock took out his phone and started tapping on the screen, 'doing it now. I'll see you tomorrow then Molly.' He turned to walk away but John intervened, 'hang on, you haven't told her the best bit yet.'

He grinned at Sherlock's angry expression and Molly's bemused one as she looked back up at the two of them.

Sherlock cleared his throat and swung back round, 'yes, I forgot, we'll be undercover so you'll be posing as my wife.'

 **You know what I'm going to ask now don't you? I'm needy and insecure, I need your review so I know that you like it...please, pretty please.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Wow, I don't think I've had so many reviews for a first chapter before. I hope I can live up to the promise. Maybe it's Ben being photographed all over Nepal that's exciting all our interests. I know I'm loving it after so many nights of Stage Door pics, which were great but did get a tad repetitive.**

 **But enough of than onwards and upwards to the North; a lot of worlds have a North. For those wondering I grew up in the North of England so had a hankering to get my OTP up there at some point.**

 **Chapter 2**

Molly spent the evening in a bit of a panicked daze. Thanks to Sherlock she was flat out; packing for the trip, sorting out Toby's basket and food as well as ringing various friends and family to let them know she'd be away for a few days.

She finally sat down on her bed with a cup of tea at about 10.30pm and it started to sink in what exactly she had agreed to. Molly closed her eyes and let her head fall back onto the headboard. A slow smile spread across her face, _this could be fun_ she thought to herself _or it could be a complete disaster_. She shook her head as though to get rid of that last thought.

She sipped at her cup of tea and imagined a whole week (if she were lucky) with Sherlock having to be nice to her. She smiled again and bit her lip at the thought of being able to hold his hand and kiss him in public. She could really have some fun with this.

MHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMH

The next day saw Molly with suitcase and bags, plus an irritated cat in a cat carrier all making their way in a taxi to Baker St.

When she finally arrived and unloaded everything Mrs Hudson led her into her kitchen so they could settle Toby together.

'Sherlock's just finishing his packing; he's always on the last minute that one. Seemed to think I was going to do it for him but I told him, I'm not your housekeeper I said. He never listens though. Now would you like a nice cup of tea and a buttered teacake before you set off.'

'No time Mrs Hudson. Come on Molly the taxi's here. I'll take your case out', called Sherlock from the hallway.

Molly took another moment to say goodbye to both Toby and Mrs Hudson then she made her way back out into the cold February morning. Sherlock was already in the cab, no doubt tutting to himself at her delay, so she checked she'd got her bag and gloves etc. and then climbed in shutting the door behind her.

It was only when she had settled into her seat that she noticed the change in Sherlock. For starters he was dressed in jeans, a hoodie and a black leather jacket with black boots. Not only that his hair was both lighter in colour and shorter, most of his curls had been cut off.

She stared at him in shock, 'oh! Wow, don't you look...errr...different.'

'Well, I do seem to remember telling you I needed to be undercover. Unfortunately my appearance is quite striking and thanks to the papers and the Internet quite well known so...' He waved a hand down himself.

Molly looked down at her own attire and Sherlock, spotting her, continued, 'fortunately for you Molly you are fairly ordinary and nondescript so you can stay as you are.'

'You know Sherlock if you can't say anything nice why don't you try to not say anything at all.'

Sherlock gawped at Molly and quickly thought back over what he had said. He hadn't meant to imply she was in some way unattractive just that she wasn't famous or recognisable.

'I..am sorry, Molly. I just meant you aren't well known. You are, of course, attractive in your own right.'

Now it was Molly's turn to be surprised, 'well thank you Sherlock, that's much better.'

'So what do you think of my disguise?'

Molly turned to face him looking him over, 'well...I think it's a shame you've cut your curls off but the casual look suits you, you still look very good-looking as I'm sure you know.'

Sherlock huffed slightly, 'I didn't mean do I look good in this I meant do I look different enough, will people still recognise me?'

Molly blushed ever so slightly which made Sherlock's heart twist slightly, why did he always seem to say the wrong thing to her, 'oh, sorry. No...no I don't think they would recognise you.'

MHMHMHMHMHMHNHM

They flew from London Heathrow to Manchester. The flight was just over an hour so they got in just before lunch and Molly managed to grab herself a sandwich on the way through the airport. She'd tried to persuade Sherlock to have something but he'd insisted he'd eaten the day before so he'd be fine. Molly hoped he wouldn't keep this up all the time, she enjoyed her food and was fully intending to treat this like a mini holiday and indulge a bit. It wouldn't be much fun if her 'husband' didn't join her.

As they made their way to the rental car desk Sherlock decided to let Molly in on some more of the details of his plan.

'Right, so as you've probably gathered I can't use my own name, it's too recognisable. As we're meant to be married I thought it made sense for me to adopt your surname so I'm Will Hooper. William as you may not be aware is my first name. Mycroft has had some basic identification made up but I didn't have time to set up a bank account. Instead I've transferred £2000 into your account so you can pay for anything big whilst we're away.'

Molly spluttered, 'two grand, seriously, that's a lot of money Sherlock.'

'Don't worry the client will reimburse me for any costs incurred. It'll cover the rental, the hotel and any incidentals we may need to purchase. Whatever we don't spend you can keep.'

Molly rolled her eyes at his laissez faire attitude to finance but she duly paid for the hire car; she could have the conversation with him about money another time.

Sherlock had decided on a 4x4 and when they exited the airport Molly could understand why. Not only was it cold but there was already plenty of snow on the ground and more falling. They punched the address into the sat nav and drove onto the M56 towards Stockport.

Molly had never visited this part of the country before and was a little bit disappointed to see how dirty and grim everything seemed to look. She soon changed her mind however once they'd gone past Stockport and Ashton and started making their way towards Saddleworth itself. The moors rose up ahead of them as they drove past signs for villages with strange names; Mossley, Dobcross, Diggle.

They drove through yet another small village and then started their ascent up to the moors which had a cold, bleak beauty covered as they were by a thick blanket of snow. Molly held her breath as they reached the top and the moors were spread out in every direction around them. The beauty was stained though by the notorious reputation they had, forever being linked to the Moors murders committed back in the 1960's. It seemed heart breaking and unreal to Molly that children could have been killed and buried up here.

The snow was falling faster as they drove across the Moors and Sherlock slowed his driving as his visibility reduced.

The sat nav was telling them that they only had another half mile to go but by the time they arrived at The Retreat they could barely see 100 metres ahead of them. The snow was crunching under the wheels of the car and Molly breathed a sigh of relief when they finally parked up.

They both put their hoods up and fastened their coats before they exited the car. Sherlock collected their cases from the boot and they hurriedly made the short walk to the front doors and the awaiting warmth. Molly didn't have much time to assess the exterior look of the hotel but she knew it was quite an impressive building. She'd read on their website that it was an old Manor House which had been in the Greaves family for over 200 years. It was now a hotel and retreat but was still owned and run by the same family.

As the front door clicked shut behind them a mature lady appeared behind the reception desk, Molly figured she must be in her late sixties but she looked energetic and sprightly with it. Sherlock stepped forward smiling widely, 'hi, I'm Will Hooper, this is my wife Molly. I made a booking yesterday.'

'Oh yes of course, I'm glad you managed to make it we were a bit worried you wouldn't be able to what with the weather being so bad. Now, if you don't mind filling in this form with your details I'll get your key and show you up to your room.'

'Are you busy at the moment?' Sherlock asked as he completed the form.

'Obviously not as busy as we are in summer but busier than normal for this time of year. We've got over half our rooms booked. Right now you're in the Baskerville suite. Before we go up though if you'd like to hand over your phones and any other electronic devices I'll store them in our safe.'

Molly almost laughed out loud at the horrified look on Sherlock's face. She stepped forward removing her phone from her bag and switching it off, 'come on darling, you remember that was the main reason we booked this hotel. You need to get away from work and all the stress you've been under.' It was obvious to Molly that Sherlock hadn't taken the time to read the hotel's ethos which was an oasis of calm away from the constant barrage of information in today's society. All electronic devices bar kindle book readers were banned. There was no wifi, no broadband and only very limited mobile signals.'

'We do, of course, have a landline should you need to make a call for any reason,' said the woman as she put their devices into a padded envelope marked with their name.

Sherlock gave a rueful smile as he picked up their bags and followed the old woman up the stairs. She chatted away to them as they went. My name is Caroline Greaves, I run the place along with my son Alf and my niece Theresa. Her son also helps out when he's not at University. He's here now but due to go back in a few days. Right here we are.'

She opened the door into a surprisingly light and airy room. The first thing which struck Molly was the large king size bed which dominate the room. She swallowed nervously and started to bite her lip before forcing herself to stop when she realised Sherlock would probably notice. There were two large old sash windows with secondary glazing to help keep the room insulated; a large wardrobe sat between the windows. Opposite the bed was an open wood fire with two wing back chairs sat either side and a small drinks table between them.

'We lit the fire for you, thought you might be cold after your journey and would appreciate the warmth. There's plenty of wood and kindling and you can light the fire whenever you want throughout your visit. Just ring down if you run out of anything. We'll clean out the grates during breakfast so it's ready to light again thereafter.'

She walked over to a door that Molly hadn't spotted. 'Your ensuite is in here, we've supplied towels and sundries but again just let us know if you need replacements. And last but not least there are tea making facilities here. Now will you be dining downstairs this evening or would you prefer room service.'

Molly said 'downstairs' at the exact same time Sherlock said 'room service'. They looked at each other momentarily before Molly took Sherlock's hand and leaned against him, 'come on Sweetie, let's mingle and get to know the other guests. It'll be fun.'

Sherlock looked down at her, pleasantly surprised by her acting skills, 'of course, why not.' He turned back to Caroline, 'table for two then.'

Caroline smiled, 'great, it's a set menu at this time of year, food will be served at seven thirty. The dining room is just to the right of the reception desk as is the bar. OK, well you two settle in and like I said let me know if you need anything.'

With that she exited the room closing the door discreetly behind her.

 **For those unfamiliar with the Moors Murders they were real and were committed by Myra Hindley, who died in prison, and Ian Brady who is still alive in Broadmoor prison. It's a crime which has cast long shadows over the area with many people alive who remember the crime and the victims; sad, very sad.**

 **I'll update again mid-week, until then keep those comments flowing in.**


	3. Chapter 3

**As promised here I am with the next instalment...enjoy!**

 **Chapter 3**

The moment Caroline had left the room Sherlock's smile slid off his face and he dropped the cases onto the floor. He removed his coat and shoes and then lay himself onto the bed and assumed his prayer pose.

Molly watched all this happen and then rolled her eyes, 'OK then.' She took a quick look around the room and the bathroom before grabbing the kettle and filling it up in the bathroom sink.

'Just tea for me.'

'Oh you're still awake then.' Molly knew there was more than a slight hint of sarcasm in her voice,

'Yes, of course I'm still awake. I'm just thinking, I need to decide how best to approach this case.'

Molly switched on the kettle and then grabbed her suitcase so she could unpack. 'So what exactly is the case?'

'There have been some thefts taking place in the hotel over the last few months. The owner Caroline contacted me asking me to come and investigate. She's worried it may be a family member which is why she hasn't called in the police. Trouble is the last item was a valuable bracelet left in the safe by a guest and the insurance are refusing to cover the cost.'

'Why didn't you let her know who you were then?'

'I want her to treat me like any other guest. If she knew who I was she would sub-consciously treat me differently, anyway just because she called me in doesn't mean she isn't the thief.'

Molly eventually brought the cup of tea over to him and carried her own to one of the chairs by the fire. She kicked off her shoes and let her feet warm up, enjoying the sight of the flames licking around the wood in the hearth. She'd always had a love of open fires; her Nan had had one at her house and it reminded her of her visits there before her Nan had passed away. Her own flat had less than romantic storage heaters which not only cost a fortune but didn't heat her flat half as well.

Sherlock sat down in the seat opposite hers and joined her in watching the flames.

He cleared his throat which made Molly look over to him.

'Thank you for joining me Molly. I know I can be...difficult to put up with and I don't always acknowledge your help but I do appreciate it.'

Molly smiled, 'it's fine Sherlock, it actually feels a bit like a holiday. I haven't been away in years. Most of my leave is spent at home alone or visiting family. My girl friends are all married now or have kids so aren't interested in going away anywhere, not with me anyway, and I don't like to travel alone. I tried in once but...sorry I'm rambling. You're not interested.'

Sherlock opened his mouth to agree with her but found that actually he didn't. He wanted to know why she didn't like travelling alone, 'no, please carry on.'

'Well, a couple of years ago, when you were away, I decided to be all independent and booked myself on a week away to Gran Canarias but it was hideous. It just seemed to accentuate the fact that I was alone. Everyone else was in couples or families. There's only so often you can sit in a bar on your own reading a book. I hated it.'

Sherlock didn't quite know what to say, so he thought it was best to take Molly's advice from earlier and say nothing.

After a couple of minutes of companionable silence Molly spoke again, 'do you miss John? Since he moved out I mean.'

Sherlock found himself once again wanting to say one thing but ending up actually telling her the truth, 'I spent years living alone or at least, being alone in a crowd, but I find that having lived with John and having a close friendship I am now less satisfied with long periods of my own company. So yes, yes I do miss the fact that he isn't in the flat as much as he was.'

Molly glanced at her watch, 'wow is that the time. We'd better get ready for dinner, I'm starving, I hope it's good food. You are going to eat aren't you because it will just look odd if you don't?'

Sherlock broke into a grin, 'yes Molly I will eat. Now we need to agree our back story before we go down.'

After much huffing and a short but heated debate, in which Molly refused to accept Sherlock's assurances that he wouldn't look, Sherlock changed in the bathroom so that Molly could have the bedroom and they discussed the details through the door. Molly had brought a couple of smarter dresses for dinner, she chose a blue wool jumper dress which she teemed with tights and knee high black boots. She liked the way the wool skimmed her curves seeming to accentuate her hourglass figure.

Sherlock certainly agreed when he exited the bathroom feeling much more himself in his black suit. 'Molly you look lovely that dress actually fits you for once, and the colour suits you perfectly.'

Molly eyed him suspiciously, 'you know I don't have any body parts with me. There's no need to give me false compliments now.'

Sherlock was slightly irritated but also not unsurprised that she distrusted him so much, 'I...no...honestly Molly. I'm sorry for having made you think I don't find you attractive because I do.'

Sherlock suddenly felt nervous that he may have said too much, been too obvious, but Molly just smiled and thanked him before they exited the room together.

Sherlock offered her his arm as they walked down the wide staircase to the ground floor and Molly felt a bit like a fairy-tale princess walking down with her prince at least until she stumbled a little on the second to last step.

They seemed to fit together well and when they got to the bar Sherlock continued being a gentleman as he pulled her chair out for her to sit on before going to the bar to order them drinks.

He brought her a tall glass of white wine and soda and sat down beside her with his own glass of red. 'So go on then,' she asked as she took a sip, 'how do you know what I prefer to drink?'

Sherlock rolled his eyes, 'really Molly, that's child's play, I have been in your apartment, I have seen you drinking in my flat at Christmas and other events. It's not hard to observe and recollect what you drink.'

'But why would you even bother remembering. John said you delete extraneous information. So why would you bother to keep what I drink?'

Sherlock had to scramble for an answer. Of course he'd remembered because it's **her** and he'd been unable to delete any of **her** information for years now. 'I...I find it best to recall my friends likes and dislikes. John was unhappy when I couldn't remember how he took his tea after he'd been living in the flat for six months; it was quite the hissy fit.'

Molly laughed seemingly appeased.

Just at that point another couple not dissimilar in age entered the bar. They nodded their hello's to Molly and Sherlock before sitting a couple of tables away. Molly whispered to Sherlock, 'I suppose we should be interacting more with the staff and guests, trying to pump them for information.'

Sherlock nearly swallowed his Merlot the wrong way, 'Molly I'm really not sure you should be pumping anyone for anything.' As the words left his mouth he realised his double entendre and hoped Molly wouldn't pick up on it. He continued quickly, 'the barman is Caroline's great nephew, Marcus. Apparently he's covering for the normal staff as the weather has prevented them from getting up to the hotel. He's twenty, studying Art History at Durham University. His mother is cooking and being helped by the only other live in member of staff, a girl called Hannah. He's sleeping with Hannah but neither his mother nor Caroline knows.'

There was a moments silence as Molly just looked at him in awe, 'you got all that in the thirty seconds you were getting the drinks.'

'Molly, I got most of that when we walked into the bar he just confirmed some of the names and details. Now shall we go into the dining room,' he raised his voice slightly and smirked at her, 'I'm starving,' he said mirroring her comment from earlier.

She nudged him playfully in the ribs with her elbow but picked up her drink and followed him through.

Thankfully the meal was delicious. It was quite simple fare, just a venison stew and vegetables followed by a choice of either Lemon Meringue or Spotted Dick and Custard but it was all home-made and filling. Molly looked around at the other guests. There were about fifteen tables in the dining room and just under half were filled. Molly was surprised there were that many guests given the weather and the time of year.

Two of the couples were obviously retired; they were all sitting together and had obviously known each other for years. Most of the noise and laughter in the room was coming from them. There was the couple from the bar, a middle aged guy sitting alone. He looked, to Molly, like a walker, he hadn't dressed up for dinner but was instead wearing brown cords and a checked shirt with trainers, he was reading a book as he ate.

There were two men and one woman sat together, Molly wasn't one hundred per cent sure but they looked more like work colleagues than related, they were all of a similar age and just seemed to be making polite conversation. Finally there was a woman, late fifties, again sitting alone.

They were served by the barman and a young girl, who couldn't have been more than twenty. If Sherlock hadn't said anything about them sleeping together Molly wasn't sure she would have picked up the signs, but there was the odd glance, the odd smile which confirmed to Molly that Sherlock was probably right.

After dinner most people went back into the bar. As Sherlock and Molly sat down with another round of drinks the other couple came over and asked if they could join them. It was the guy who spoke first, 'hi, I'm Andy and this is my wife Claire, it's good to see someone else our own age here. Do you mind if we join you?'

Sherlock rose and shook hands and waved them to the seats on the other side of the table, 'no, of course not. I'm Will and this is my wife, Molly. So, what brings you guys to this remote location?'

Again it was Andy who answered, 'oh, you know. We just fancied a break, needed to just get away. We were planning to do some walking on the Moors, we managed it yesterday and this morning but if this weather keeps up we'll be lucky to leave the hotel at all tomorrow. How about you two?'

'Similar, work has been really pressured recently for me, so Molly thought I needed a break. Didn't you darling?' Sherlock turned to Molly smiling and she smiled back agreeing.

'Oh right, what line of business are you in then?'

'Medical sales, it used to be OK but the targets just get higher every year, the pressure is unrelenting. I think I need to find a new job. It did bring me one good thing though, I met my Molly.'

He put his arm around Molly's shoulders and hugged her. The move caught Molly unawares and as she moved into him she automatically put her hand on his thigh. She felt him tense up momentarily before relaxing but she felt she couldn't move her hand now as it would look too odd when they were supposed to be married.

Claire spoke for the first time, 'oh that sounds sweet how did it happen?'

Molly was about to answer, using their pre-prepared story, but Sherlock beat her too it.

'Molly's a doctor so I go in to see her quite regularly. It didn't happen straight away, it wasn't love at first sight, at least not for me. No, it came on gradually, I just found I was thinking about her more and more, making excuses to go in and see her. I'd spend time just watching her working, seeing her talking to other people, just being Molly; caring and welcoming and I just fell for her and now I can't imagine my life without her in it.'

He turned and looked at Molly who was in a state of partial shock. She knew absolutely that Sherlock was playing a part but he sounded so genuine and she so desperately wished that he meant what he said. She only realised at the last moment that he was bending his head to lean in for a kiss. Her eyes flicked from his eyes to his lips in a split second and then they met her own.

It was a brief kiss, just a press of lips but Molly felt her heart rate spike and her breathing shallow out. She almost felt dizzy and it took an extraordinary effort on her part to smile and turn back to Andy and Claire.

 **First kiss...sigh. I always love the first kiss, how about you?**

 **Next chapter will be up Friday, I should think you know my routines by now.**


	4. Chapter 4

**It's Friday which means it's the weekend...yay! I have plans to write this weekend. As I forgot to mention it earlier in the week congrats to Ben for finally receiving his CBE from the queen, I've seen some lovely pics and gifs referring to him wearing a sheet last time he went or nicking an ashtray, very funny. If any of you want to find me on tumblr my name is the same as here so look me up.**

 **Finally thank you for all your reviews as always. You can never send me too many.**

 **Chapter 4**

The rest of the evening passed off fairly uneventfully. The two couples chatted for an hour or so about their different jobs, universities they had attended. There was the typical oh I know such and such who lived in your home town/went to your university do you know them kind of questions. Molly was almost sure that Sherlock was making the names up for his own amusement but she didn't say anything.

With all the travelling though it had been a long day and Molly found herself growing more and more tired and knew she wasn't holding up her end of the conversation. After her third yawn Sherlock finally got the hint and they made their excuses and left promising to meet up at some point the next day.

The fire in their bedroom was almost out when they got back. Sherlock threw some smaller logs on to build it back up and deferred to Molly regarding the use of the bathroom. 'You go to bed, I'll stay up a bit longer. I need to think, catalogue everything I've learnt so far about the hotel and its occupants.'

'OK, good night Sherlock.' Molly hesitated a second but then went over to where he was sitting and placed a quick kiss on his cheek. 'Don't stay up too late and...I know it's a bit odd but I don't have an issue with you sharing the bed, in case you were thinking about being chivalrous.'

Sherlock snorted, 'Molly, when have you ever known me to be chivalrous. I never had any qualms about sharing the bed, it's a king size so plenty of room for both of us.'

Molly rolled her eyes behind his back and decided to leave him to it.

As she climbed into the bed a few minutes later and closed her eyes she found it calm and comforting hearing the crackle of the fire and knowing that, for once, she wasn't alone as she slept. It had been nearly six months since she had broken up with Tom and she hadn't been with anyone else in that time. She wasn't sure she ever would again, at least not seriously, not whilst she still felt how she did about Sherlock. What would be the point, involving herself with someone, leading them to believe they could be something serious when all the time she was in love with another man. She still remembered the hurt and pain on Tom's face when she had ended things, how could she consciously ever do that to someone again.

Slowly she slid a finger over her lips remembering the moment when Sherlock had kissed her earlier. She had thought her time away with Sherlock would be fun, a holiday. She hadn't considered how painful it would be to see him pretending to be in love with her. She could almost touch the dream; see how good they would be together. He was making her fall even deeper in love with him; something she hadn't thought was even possible. She was going to have to be careful.

MHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMH

Sherlock meanwhile was in his mind palace but he had long since finished his work on this trivial case. He already knew who the thief was it was just a question of how long he kept that information to himself.

Instead his mind was occupied with the small pathologist currently lying in the bed a few feet from him. She was the reason he was here and she was the reason he wouldn't end the case too early.

He went over their interactions since the morning and he was happy with how things were progressing. She obviously hadn't believed the soliloquy he had given to that couple, about how he had fallen in love, even though it had all been the truth but it had given him the perfect opportunity to kiss her. Granted it had only been very brief, given it had been under such a public scrutiny, but Sherlock had already given it pride of place in Molly's room. He hadn't realised her lips would be so soft, that the feeling of her yielding to him at that moment, her hand burning his thigh, would have been so sexually stimulating. He would have to engineer a reason for them to kiss again and soon.

His mind now flicked to the bed, he could tell by her breathing that she had fallen asleep. Although he had been honest earlier about not being bothered about sharing a bed with her he was suddenly feeling...he tried to pin down the emotion. Recognising feelings in himself was not something he often did, was he nervous, scared? He frowned; fear was not something he liked to see in himself. He shook himself out of his reverie and forced himself to get ready for bed. He needed to just do rather than think.

The bed was warm when he slid between the covers; he'd forgotten how welcoming a bed could be when there was another warm body in it. He settled himself lying on his back with his arm above his head excruciatingly conscious of Molly lying inches from him. He wasn't sure he would sleep at all that night...

The next morning Sherlock woke to find himself wrapped around Molly with her back pressed up against his chest and his hand on her breast over her nightshirt.

He almost, almost squeaked, in a very unmanly fashion, but instead slowly edged backwards out of the bed so he and his quite obvious erection could go and hide in the bathroom. He was just glad that Molly had not woken up and realised what had happened.

As he quietly closed the door to the bathroom Molly opened her eyes and bit her lip as she rolled onto her back and looked at the bathroom door.

She had awoken about five minutes before and had quickly realised that they had become entangled in the night. She could feel Sherlock's hand on her breast and his erection pressed against her leg. She had just been contemplating what to do when he had come too and quickly started to leave the bed. He was obviously mortified or more probably disgusted that they had ended up like that. No wonder he'd made every effort not to wake her. For Molly though it was just another thing for her fantasy bank, another action which made it harder for her not to want him and God did she want him, more so at this moment than ever.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

Sherlock felt better after the shower, if not a little guilty about using Molly's image to assist him in the elimination of his hard on. He watched the news headlines on the small television whilst he waited for Molly to get ready. He was already missing his phone and his laptop, how on earth had anybody kept up to date with anything without technology. He felt as though he were missing his right arm without it.

He was momentarily distracted when Molly came out of the bathroom wrapped in nothing but a towel, wet hair dripping onto her bare shoulders.

'Sorry, just forgot my...erm...some of my things.'

She rummaged in one of the drawers before extracting a plum coloured bra which she tried to hide by her side as she made her way back into the bathroom. Sherlock shifted uncomfortably in his seat, the jeans which he currently wore feeling a little tighter all of a sudden. He hadn't considered that Molly would wear such strong coloured underwear. He'd always imagined her in whites and creams, maybe a pale pink or a pastel blue. Now all of a sudden he had images of Molly in reds, blacks, purples and bright blues.

He groaned and tried to think about something else.

'Are you OK Sherlock?'

His eyes snapped open to find Molly stepping out of the bathroom fully dressed and rubbing her wet hair with another towel.

'What, yes, of course. I'm fine, why wouldn't I be?' He regretted snapping at her as soon as he had finished.

'Sorry, you just looked a little flushed that's all. Did you sleep alright?'

'Yes, fine.' He closed down the conversation by telling Molly he would meet her downstairs for breakfast. 'I want to see if they've got a newspaper, something, anything to relieve the boredom. I honestly don't see why I can't have my laptop, this is ridiculous.'

He banged his way out of the room and left Molly to dry her hair.

When she found him in the dining room he was drinking a black coffee and reading what looked like a two day old Daily Mail. He grunted when she sat down with her tea and ignored her as she picked up the menu.

Caroline, the owner, came over to take Molly's order. 'I'm sorry again Mr Hooper about the lack of a current newspaper.' She turned to Molly when Sherlock didn't respond, 'it's the snow you see, I wouldn't be surprised if we weren't snowed in. Alf's going to go out to check the road soon but, unsurprisingly, we haven't had either a newspaper or any other delivery this morning. Don't you worry though, we're used to this, it won't be the first year it's happened. We have plenty of provisions although we might have to rely on UHT milk in a day or so if we are snowed in.'

Molly took advantage of someone else cooking to order a full English breakfast. By the time it arrived Sherlock seemed a bit more cheerful. He threw the newspaper down on the chair at the side of him and absentmindedly nicked a slice of bacon off Molly's plate whilst he chatted to her about some of the other guests in the hotel.

Molly tried not to stab his hand with her fork as he stole the bacon _order your own bacon..._ andlistened to his deductions.

'The chap on his own, pretending to be here to walk but he's no walker. Gay, American, here for another reason but I don't have enough information yet so don't know if he's relevant.'

He went to take Molly's sausage but this time he did get his hand slapped. Molly called Caroline over and ordered some food for him.

Sherlock just rolled his eyes and carried on, 'the two elderly couples. The woman with the bad dye job hates her husband, she should have divorced him ten years ago. She keeps making eyes at the walker, not knowing he's gay though, so pointless. The husband meanwhile is flirting with the woman in the other couple. They're still in love though...'

His plate of food arrived and he picked up his knife and fork.

'What about the woman on her own?' Asked Molly. She seemed a little familiar but Molly couldn't place her.

'The writer, Angela Smith, trashy crime novels, no real plot. The ones I have read I solved within a few pages. She knows Caroline, they appear to be friends. I suspect she comes here to write given the ink stain on her thumb and the fact she isn't engaging with any other guests.'

'The three business people are fun. The dark haired guy is on drugs, heroin, new to the addiction so the signs are subtle. If we are snowed in and he has no supply he will start to get withdrawal symptoms.

The other two are trying to carry on a secret affair. She's married and just found out she's pregnant, she doesn't know if it's her husbands or not.'

Molly sat looking at Sherlock, feeling a bit shocked. 'God does everyone have some kind of secret? At least Andy and Claire seemed normal last night.'

Sherlock just looked at her and raised an eyebrow. 'Do you observe nothing Molly? Honestly you're as bad as John.' He wanted to ask her how she always saw him, knew him so well, but he knew why.

'What, tell me.'

'Andy had an affair. They've come here to try to salvage their relationship. Claire is struggling to accept what happened and in all likelihood will end the relationship when they return home.'

'How...how did you get that from our conversation with them last night?'

'Andy was overly chatty, desperate to keep the conversation light and happy...too desperate. She was quiet, withdrawn, wouldn't look him in the eye. Plus when I explained how I fell in love with you she almost started to cry.'

Molly knew she was holding her cutlery a little too tightly after he mentioned falling in love with her. She had to consciously relax her hands. She would give anything to believe it were true. She figured if he saw her reaction he probably had no idea what he had said or done to cause it.

It was at that moment that Andy and Claire walked in.

 **Sorry if it feels like a bit of a filler chapter, things will start to hot up soon (in more ways than one). Next update will be on Sunday. Have a great weekend.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Here I am back again with another update. I've never actually been snowed in myself but I suspect the reality would be a little less fun than the thought of it. Luckily Molly and Sherlock have plenty of warmth, food and drink to keep them going. But what will they do to pass the time...?**

 **Chapter 5**

The two couples only caught up briefly; agreeing to meet up later, after lunch, and find some way to pass the time.

When they'd finished breakfast Molly managed to persuade Sherlock to explore the hotel with her. They already knew the reception, bar and dining area but if they were possibly going to be stuck there Molly wanted to know what there was to pass the time. She talked Sherlock into it on the basis of needing more information for the case. Sherlock meanwhile had to keep reminding himself he was supposed to be trying to solve something.

Before they started Molly nipped off to the loo but when she got to the corridor she realised there was some kind of argument going on. She held back and listened, wishing that Sherlock was here instead of her. She felt a bit ridiculous trying to eavesdrop but it might be connected to the case and important.

Two men were having a half whispered discussion, 'you've had plenty of time. I need my money back.' Molly strained but couldn't quite make out the next bit, 'I don't care either you get the money or so help me God...' At this point someone obviously came out of the toilets and the conversation broke up.

Caroline's son Alf walked round the corner and almost into Molly, 'oh sorry Mrs Hooper.' He kept going and when Molly turned into the corridor she found it empty.

When she got back to Sherlock, she took his hand and pulled him into a corner of the bar and eagerly relayed as much information as she could. 'So one of the men was Alf, I think he must be the one who owes the money, the other sounded older so I'm thinking it was one of the retired couples, maybe if I heard him again I'd recognise him...what do you think?'

Sherlock thought he'd never seen Molly looking so pretty, she was animated and excited about her foray into detection and whilst his mind almost rebelled as he thought it, it was sweet. He didn't see how what she had heard fitted in with his own conclusion about the thefts, it must just been coincidental information but he pretended to consider it and thanked Molly for her ingenuity at gathering as much information as she had. Molly smiled proudly and Sherlock almost kissed her again, just for the hell of it.

Instead they went on with their plan to explore. They checked out the door off the bar named 'Games Room' first. Inside was a pool table, dart board, bar skittles, playing cards and a stack of board games in a corner. Sherlock excitedly held up Cluedo but Molly laughed and shook her head 'no way, John's warned me about you and Cluedo, I am so not playing that with you'.

Behind the reception was Caroline's office. Sherlock tried the door but it was locked. He could easily pick it but they maybe needed to wait until a quieter time. Further on was a door marked private which, when they opened it, obviously led upstairs to the staff and family living quarters.

At the back of the hotel, beyond the toilets, was a large reading room filled with books, no doubt originally the family's personal library. They both browsed the titles pulling out the odd tome to glance at, pointing out books that the other might like. It was a very restful room. Chairs and lamps scattered about and views out over the moors. Molly felt that in summer it would be the best room in the hotel. There were two doors off this room, one to the garden and the moors, the other to a small, recent addition of a conservatory. It was far too cold in there though and they quickly pulled the door shut, shivering.

They sat in the reading room for about an hour each lost in their own book; it was a companionable silence. Molly trying hard not to glance over at Sherlock too much, but not noticing how often he was watching her. They were joined eventually by one of the elderly couples who introduced themselves as Roger and Greta. It was the couple who Sherlock had announced were still in love and as Molly chatted to them she could see it for herself. They had been married for over forty years and Greta happily showed Molly some photos from her handbag of their children and grandchildren. Molly cooed at all the right times and chatted about the hotel and the weather. Roger wasn't much of a talker so just chose a book and read. The one time he did say something Molly caught Sherlock's eye and shook her head slightly, his was not the voice she had heard earlier.

Greta asked Molly about her and Sherlock and Molly gave the agreed story. 'I saw the two of you at dinner yesterday; you both looked very comfortable and very in love. You'll last, I can tell these things. So many couple it's all about passion and when that fades they have nothing left. But you two, you are friends first and lovers second, the perfect combination.'

Molly blushed, she was ashamed to be fooling this kind, old lady and embarrassed that she had read her and Sherlock so wrong. Sherlock reached over and linked hands with Molly, 'I agree, Molly and I have so much in common, I trust her, I always have.'

Molly stood up quickly pulling away from him. She suddenly felt claustrophobic cooped up in the hotel, managing so many lies. How did Sherlock make it seem so easy? Of course she knew the answer to that one, he could lie because he didn't care, he never cared about anyone or anything, not really.

'Will, can we go outside? I know it's snowing but I need some fresh air.' She turned to him imploringly and he nodded his head in agreement.

Before they even left the library though the bell rang for lunch. Molly glanced at her watch, surprised to find it was already one o'clock; they had spent more time exploring the hotel than she had realised.

'Saved by the bell,' said Sherlock smiling at Molly before he grabbed her hand and pulled her towards the dining hall.

After lunch they met up with Andy and Claire who were also up for wrapping up and braving the elements. It was still snowing but they were big fat lazy snowflakes rather than the blizzards of earlier and overnight.

Alf had got back to the hotel just before lunch and told the guests that the roads down to Greenfield and in the opposite direction to Holmfirth were now impassable. Most of the guests were sanguine about their current imprisonment but there was much noise and complaint from the business people, they had travelled with Alf trying to get off the moors and on to their business appointments but even though they had seen the conditions for themselves they were still unhappy.

Unsurprisingly to Molly given Sherlock's deductions it was not the more senior looking Alan who was kicking up a fuss but the heroin addicted Rob. He carried out a five minute tirade to Caroline before his colleagues persuaded him to drop it.

As the three left the reception area to go back to their respective rooms Molly saw a sudden flash of sympathy on Sherlock's face. It made her remember his relapse the previous year and her anger at him risking for his health and even his life in that way.

They went back to their own room to collect coats and scarves for their outdoor adventure. 'Will he be OK?' Asked Molly.

Sherlock knew exactly what she was talking about and responded, 'he might be, hard to say. It depends how long he's been using and how addicted he is. He'll quickly start to suffer withdrawal, I'm sure you've read up on the symptoms.'

Molly nodded, 'restlessness, aches and pains, vomiting, diarrhoea...but why would he take it, he seems to have a good job, he's fairly good looking, probably has a family who love him and friends who care...' She trailed off realising she was talking more about Sherlock than some poor sap she'd barely met let alone knew anything about.

Sherlock sat on the edge of the bed and looked at Molly, 'in the beginning you think the drugs are your friend. They help you escape from life, from thinking too much, feeling emotions that you don't want to feel, but then it's all you can think about, getting it, taking it, finding more.' He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply.

'Right shall we go then, Idiots one and two will be wondering where we are.' He stood up and pulled on his jacket before exiting the room.

They went out through the back door and tramped their way across the grass behind the hotel. Sherlock could not imagine a more futile way of passing the time than this but then he turned and saw Molly's rapt expression as she looked up to the sky to see the snow falling down upon them. She saw him watching and smiled at him and he felt a rush of warmth flood through his body. This is why he was here, for her, to be with her, it was all he wanted. It was at that moment that a snowball hit the side of his head with a cold, wet splat.

'Come on you guys, snowball fight,' cried Andy as he threw a snowball at Claire. The next few minutes were a flurry of shouts and gleeful yells. The girls ended up in one team and the guys in the other. Needless to say the men won and Sherlock found himself pinning Molly down in the snow laughing at her disgruntlement. Without even thinking about it he leant down and kissed her.

This time the kiss was hurried but passionate. Her warm mouth opened up to him and he tilted his head to better control the kiss. He could hear Andy calling to him but he didn't want to end this moment, it was better than he had ever hoped it would be. It was Molly moaning that brought him back to his senses and he knelt up pulling Molly up with him and brushing the snow from her jacket and hat. She looked flushed and confused.

He avoided her gaze and stood up lobbing a final snowball at Andy who was mocking them for being such 'lovebirds'.

They spent the next half hour building snowmen this time competing as couples to see who could build the biggest and best. Molly was feeling a bit shell shocked from that kiss. She hadn't been expecting it at all. One minute they were all fighting and laughing the next minute Sherlock had been kissing her. She was sure he had meant it to be a peck like last time and she wasn't quite sure how it had escalated but it had and she had found herself moaning into his mouth.

Moaning...like a schoolgirl...dear god what must he be thinking. She had been so turned on and now she was so embarrassed and she was sure that Sherlock must be horrified, he was avoiding her glances. Maybe she should just ignore it, he hated to talk about feelings at the best of times, it would just irritate him. Yes, she'd just ignore it and hope that he would too.

 **Well with all that snow we had to have a bit of fun with it. Hope you're still enjoying the misunderstandings and Molly turning detective. I'll update soon.**


	6. Chapter 6

**So it's Wednesday and I'm celebrating my eldest becoming a teenager which is a little scary. I'm not sure where the time went. It also means it's only a few weeks to Christmas and I'm trying to get a Christmas fic written for you all but I'm running out of time...aargh!**

 **Chapter 6**

By the time they trudged back into the hotel they were all cold, wet and shivering. As they went into their room Sherlock immediately knelt at the fireplace to make up the fire whilst instructing Molly to take a warm shower. He almost asked if he could join her but bit his tongue at the last minute. He had to be careful not to rush things, he was always rushing into things, talking without thinking and John was always telling him it was not good. For the first time he wished he had consulted with John and asked his opinion. He was feeling a bit out of his depth now with how to progress things.

When Molly came back into the room wrapped in one of the fluffy hotel dressing gowns, with a pair of ankle socks on to keep her feet warm, the fire was just getting going.

'Go on Sherlock, you need a shower too, I'll make us both a cup of tea.'

When he came out wearing a matching gown there were two cuppas and a plate of biscuits waiting by the roaring fire. Molly hadn't bothered with the chair and was instead sitting on the floor warming her hands and sipping her tea. Sherlock sat down next to her on the carpet. She smiled shyly at him and they drank their tea in an easy silence.

It was Molly who spoke first, 'do you think Andy and Claire will work things out? He seems to be trying really hard?'

Sherlock looked at her, hearing the compassion in her voice for two people they barely knew, 'honestly, I don't know. There are limits even to my deductive skills.'

Molly smiled cheekily, 'really, and you're admitting that.'

'Yes, really. For instance I never figured out why you broke things off with Todd. You seemed...happy with him.'

'Tom, and yes I was, at least initially I was. He was so open and caring, the opposite of...well my normal type. But...' She sighed and looked down picking at a bit of fluff off the carpet, 'well I suppose he was too nice, I seem to be a bit masochistic when it comes to men.'

'You'll find the right one soon, I'm sure.' Sherlock found himself pushing a strand of her hair back over her ear, she pulled away shock written on her face, leaving his hand hovering in mid-air, 'sorry, I...so is there no one that you're seeing at the moment?' This was the question Sherlock had been building up to. He desperately wanted the answer to be no and was almost sure it would be but he had been known to miss things in the past and he needed to know she was free.

'No, no, there's no one. Not even sure there will be. I hurt Tom and I hated myself for doing it. Who knows maybe I'll just stay single and become one of those strange cat ladies in retirement.'

She tried to muster a smile as she looked at Sherlock but he saw her fear that that might actually come true. He felt he had to say something, to try to let her know she wouldn't be alone, that he would be there for her.

'Molly, you are not only a very accomplished pathologist but you are a very compassionate and warm human being. Someone of your character shouldn't be alone or be afraid of being alone. I...'

He faltered slightly wondering how best to tell her of his feelings, but she put her hand on his arm and interrupted.

'Sherlock, I think that is the kindest thing you've ever said. Listen, don't mind me, winter always makes me a bit melancholic. I'll be fine. Anyway we'd best get dressed for dinner, maybe we could play pool or darts after, bet I can beat you at both.'

She stood up and left a frustrated Sherlock staring after her as she walked over to the wardrobe to find an outfit.

MHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMH

Molly's suggestion of a games night seemed to gain momentum when the dinner was over. Andy and Claire quickly agreed to it and when they opened up the room two of the three business people joined them along with the walker and the retirees.

It seemed that everyone wanted some form of entertainment. The two older couples settled down in the corner to play a noisy round of Bridge. The business couple Alan and Lorraine, whom Sherlock had pegged as having an affair, started a darts match with the walker whose name was Guy. Molly asked them where their third companion was but she was told he wasn't feeling well and had had his meal in his room.

That left Molly and Sherlock playing a couples pool match with Andy and Claire.

Sherlock much to Molly's surprise was very good at pool. When she quizzed him about it he initially commented that it was all just maths and angles but when she pressed him further he admitted he'd played a lot during his years at boarding school, 'you can imagine the lessons were very dull, what was the point in attending when I already knew more than the teachers. I was never particularly sporty, at least not team sports, so I used to pass the time playing pool and snooker.'

Molly on the other hand was pretty bad at it. She'd only played a few times before and never well. After a couple of poor shots Sherlock's competitive streak reared its head and he decided she needed some lessons.

'No, no, no, God Molly your holding the cue all wrong, here like this.' He leant over her body, his front pressed against her back as he reached around her and adjusted her grip on the pool cue.

It was only when he noticed that Molly had stopped breathing that he realised what he had done and how closely they were pressed together. She smelt divine, all hair shampoo and a light perfume that was very Molly. He was suddenly seeing the advantages and possibilities of this game in a way he never had before.

Needless to say although she was holding the cue better her shot was still wildly off, no doubt due to her distraction over Sherlock.

When she stood back up he wrapped her in a hug, 'hey don't worry Molly, I'll have you playing like a pro by the end of the night.'

Molly wasn't quite sure what had come over Sherlock but she decided to just enjoy it. He managed to pot three balls on his next go but they were still losing to Andy and Claire who were neither as good as Sherlock nor as bad as Molly.

By the time her go came round they were at serious risk of losing the game. He once again leant over her but at least this time she was more prepared for it. He was helping her align her shot, his cheek almost resting on hers, if she just turned her face slightly she'd be able to kiss him. He turned his head at the same time she did and their lips met briefly, 'go on, you can do this,' he said as he stood back up and watched her take the shot.

Molly wasn't sure who was more surprised when she made the pot her or him, 'oh, I did it, I did it.'

Sherlock picked her up in a bear hug and swung her round before kissing her AGAIN. God he was driving her insane.

But it was no good she wasn't able to repeat her fluke a second time and they lost the match to a jubilant Andy who tried to kiss Clare on the lips but ended up with her cheek instead.

They swapped the pool table for the dart board, but not before buying another round of drinks. Molly chatted with Guy whilst she waited for Sherlock to come back from the bar.

'So what brings you to England then? It seems a funny time of year for a walking holiday.'

'Maybe, but it is cheaper this time of year and I'm on quite a tight budget. Anyway, it's not just walking, I have...well, acquaintances here that I haven't seen for many years.'

He hesitated and then, obviously seeing Molly as a sympathetic listener, he continued, 'I met someone you see, a long time ago. I thought this person was the one, you know what I mean? We were so in love...or so I thought. Anyway, they left but I never forgot them. I'm not getting any younger and I finally thought I needed to see them again, make sure...you know. Because I can't move on, I've never been able to move on. Do you understand?'

Molly looked into his sad brown eyes and almost saw herself in twenty years reflected back. She put her hand over his, 'yes I do understand, more than you can know. I...I hope it works out for you. Have you seen them yet?'

'Yes, we've not had a chance to talk yet but we're meeting up soon.' He smiled at Molly before moving away as Sherlock came back in with her drink.

'You seemed to be deep in conversation, anything interesting?'

Molly looked beyond Sherlock at Guy's retreating back, 'probably not, but I'll tell you later just in case.'

The darts match went a bit better from Molly's perspective though Sherlock still seemed overly affectionate, looping his arm round her shoulder between shots or standing behind her with his arms wrapped round her waist. On the one hand it seemed so natural between them but on the other so odd. Molly had never felt so confused in her life.

It didn't stop her making the most of it though and when they won the first game she turned to Sherlock and pulled him down for a kiss. She wondered whether he would pull away but instead he pulled her closer and deepened the kiss until Molly felt dizzy.

'Oy, come on you two, you're acting like newlyweds. How long have you been married anyway?'

'Not long enough,' was Sherlock's ambiguous reply as he grinned at Andy before picking up the darts once more.

The evening ended very late with most of those that stayed to the bitter end feeling more than a bit tipsy. The games room had stayed occupied until just before midnight when Molly and Sherlock retired to the bar along with Andy, Guy and one of the retired couples Ray and Sandra.

Molly knew she was drinking too much but had stopped caring about two glasses of wine back. 'Are you sure you want another?' Said Sherlock slightly concerned that she was going to regret this in the morning.

'Yes, don't nag, we're on holiday remember.' She leant over and kissed him again, she was vaguely aware that she was probably doing this too much for Sherlock's liking and more than was really necessary for the charade they were maintaining, but she was enjoying it far too much.

Sherlock at least made sure it was a small wine with lots of soda. He was having no problem with the kisses but didn't want Molly blowing their cover at all, more for awkwardness sake than because of the case.

The conversation flowed easily, as it tends to when everyone is a bit inebriated. Even Sherlock was feeling the effects of half a dozen pints of beer. The room seemed warmer, the company better, and the conversation not as inane as normal. Molly leaning against him with her hand on his thigh, his arm round her shoulders all added to him not wanting the evening to end.

He quizzed Ray a little about his line of work prior to retirement and his hobbies and financial situation. Molly had already intimated that it was his voice she had heard that morning so he played along with 'investigating'.

By one o'clock the party broke up amidst lots of yawns and 'good nights' and 'we'll see you at breakfasts'.

Sherlock found he was almost carrying Molly up the stairs, sleep hitting her hard as they walked away from the bar.

'I had a really good night Sherlock, thank you. You were so sweet, why aren't you always this sweet?'

Sherlock smiled at her drunken ramblings as he sat her down on the bed and started to remove her shoes. Molly played with his hair as he did and he almost groaned out loud at the sensation of her nails scraping his scalp.

'I miss your curls; I wish you hadn't cut them off.'

'Undercover, remember Molly.'

'Mmmmm'

'Are you alright getting changed for bed? Do you want me to get you anything?'

He looked up at Molly and realised how close her face was to his. Her eyes were slightly glazed with alcohol and sleep but he saw her pupils dilate never the less. He also saw her eyes flick to his lips and he found himself licking them in anticipation.

He wasn't sure who initiated the kiss but it happened anyway. It was a slow and languid kiss and it seemed to last forever with neither one wanting to pull away from the other. She tasted of wine and Sherlock found himself sliding his tongue into her mouth to taste more. Her hands were still in his hair holding his head to hers. His were on her waist and her back. He wanted to feel more of her so slid one hand under her jumper and up her back feeling how smooth and warm her skin was.

He felt Molly moan and it caused a reaction right down to his groin. He could feel himself hardening. He knew he needed to end this before they got carried away, he knew Molly was too drunk and this was not how he wanted to start their relationship. He pulled away from her panting slightly trying to catch his breath and organise his thoughts.

He felt Molly pull back out of his arms and when he looked back at her she had one hand on her mouth and a shocked look on her face, 'oh, I'm so sorry Sherlock, I...I think maybe I've drunk to much...I..er..' She stood up and made her way quickly to the bathroom before he could find the words to stop her.

He changed for bed and waited for her to come out of the bathroom, still not sure what he should say.

He stood as she opened the door and was about to speak when she held her hand up. 'Please, can we not. I'm tired; if we need to talk can we do it in the morning.'

He just nodded in agreement. By the time he'd finished in the bathroom and slid into the bed she was fast asleep.

 **Next chapter holds a bit of a twist, can you guess what it is? Back Friday, the night of the teenage birthday party (shudder).**


	7. Chapter 7

**I didn't get an opportunity to mention it in my last update but it was slot of fun seeing the glimpse of Ben's character in Zoolander 2. I miss the eyebrows and the curls but thought he was still eerily attractive in an alien kind of way.**

 **As for today, I'm just trying to distract myself from thoughts of tonight's party. A bunch of teenage boys, pizza, PlayStation and a sleep over...God help me.**

 **Chapter 7**

By the time Molly had awoken the next morning Sherlock had already gone to breakfast and she was alone in the room. She eased herself more upright wincing at the banging in her head.

Sherlock had left a cup of coffee and a glass of water on her bedside cabinet along with two aspirin and a note which informed her he had gone to breakfast and would bring something back for her.

She quickly took the two tablets and then lay back on the pillows as a wave of nausea swept over her. _Please don't let me be sick_ repeating over and over in her head like a mantra. The last thing she needed was to be throwing up in the bathroom when Sherlock came back.

She had no idea why she had drunk so much the night before. It had just developed. First the meal, then playing darts and pool, she hadn't really noticed how much she'd drunk until it was too late and she'd lost all ability to say no to more. She hoped she hadn't embarrassed either Sherlock or herself.

She managed to sip at the coffee, which was still warm, whilst she tried to remember what she had said or done. She groaned slightly when she remembered how free she had been with kissing and touching him. God, poor guy, he must have hated it. She, more than most, knew how much he liked to keep his personal space intact. She'd have to apologise when he came back.

She put the coffee down and closed her eyes and it was only then that she remembered coming back to the room and Sherlock helping her to the bed and removing her shoes. Then... _oh!_ She suddenly remembered THAT kiss. Her eyes snapped open and one hand came up to her lips. She squeezed her eyes shut again, trying to reconstruct what had happened. They'd kissed, and it hadn't been a quick peck on the lips. No, this had been an epic kiss. It had seemed to go on for ages. She remembered Sherlock's tongue in her mouth for god's sake! His hand under her jumper, splayed out across the skin on her back.

What the hell does that all mean? Why had he not just pushed her away? They weren't on show, this wasn't part of them being undercover. _Maybe he just got carried away._ Molly's face creased with confusion, that didn't sound like Sherlock at all. She had never seen him even remotely interested in anyone, male or female. She'd begun to think he must be asexual, so he wouldn't just get caught up in the moment.

All the speculation just made Molly's head start to hurt again so she dragged herself out of bed hoping that a bath would make her feel better.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

Sherlock's morning meanwhile had taken a turn for the unexpected.

He'd left Molly sleeping figuring, quite rightly, that she wouldn't thank him for waking her. He'd made his way down to breakfast hoping that the weather might have improved somewhat; instead he had heard that the snow was worse than ever and had now started to drift badly. They couldn't even exit out of the front door anymore and Caroline informed them that the electricity was now coming from the back-up generator and as such would be limited and may be intermittent. She asked that they all use lights etc. as little as possible.

Hannah came to take his breakfast order. He requested some toast for himself and asked for a bacon sandwich to be made in 15 minutes for him to take back up for Molly. The food, he knew, would speed up her metabolism, helping her to eliminate the alcohol. Plus the mix of bread and bacon would give her the amino acids her body would be requiring.

He settled down with his coffee and toast wishing for the fiftieth time that he had his phone. He felt completely adrift without any connection to the outside world. Perhaps after he'd taken Molly her breakfast he would ring John using the landline.

It was at that moment that they all heard the scream.

Sherlock was the first to react and was on his feet and exiting the dining room even as the other diners were still staring round in shock.

He quickly worked out that the screams were coming from the staff quarters and he made his way through the private door and up the stairs. He was conscious that Marcus was now right behind him.

The screams had subsided somewhat but there was a harried conversation coming from one of the doors on the right hand side of the corridor and as he approached Theresa came out almost carrying a sobbing Caroline.

He turned to Theresa who seemed the most likely to give him quick answers, 'tell me!'

She turned in relief; her face drawn and pale, 'oh God, it's Alf. He's...dead, someone...someone's stabbed him.'

Sherlock turned to Marcus, 'don't let anyone else in, we may need to preserve the scene.'

He walked slowly into the room, his eyes casting about, cataloguing and deducing as he went. It was quite a large room, similar to the one he and Molly were sharing, acting as both bedroom and private sitting room. It was fairly messy, a sign of no cleaner and perennial bachelor. Clothes heaped on one of the chairs; books, magazines and paperwork scattered on the bed and desk. The bed itself was unmade and lying on the floor beside it was Alf.

It was obvious with even a cursory glance that he was dead, the cause of death was also fairly obvious given there was a letter opener embedded in his heart. Sherlock bent to feel the temperature and rigidity of the body. He would need confirmation from Molly on an estimated time of death but he was thinking it was over eight hours ago. He stood and looked around the body searching for other clues.

There was no sign of a struggle, whatever had happened Alf hadn't been expecting it. The room didn't appear to have been broken into but it was impossible for Sherlock to tell if anything was missing.

He needed Molly. He turned back to Marcus who was still by the door. When Sherlock reappeared he looked at him ashen faced, 'is it true? What mum said, is he dead?'

'Yes, I need Molly Hooper. Can you get her and I need my phone?'

'You'll be lucky to get a signal but, yes I'll get it...and her.' He took off down the corridor. Sherlock heard voices coming from another room two doors down. He was reluctant to leave the body unguarded but wanted to question Caroline, who had obviously been the first to find the body. He decided to wait for Molly but huffed impatiently glancing at his watch trying to estimate how long she would be.

MHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMH

Molly had just finished getting dressed when there was a banging on the door. 'Mrs Hooper, Mrs Hooper, are you there?'

Whoever it was sounded distressed and Molly quickly made her way over. She opened the door to find Marcus wide eyed and clearly upset, 'your husband is asking for you. It's Alf...he's...I mean...well he's dead. Can you come?'

'Yes, yes of course. Give me a minute. I'll meet you in reception.' She closed the door and thought quickly about what she might need.

She grabbed the latex gloves that they'd brought, a notepad and pen and a hair band so she could at least put her still damp hair up into a ponytail. Then she was out of the room and running down the stairs, ignoring the thrumming of her headache.

Marcus was waiting holding the envelope that Caroline had used on the first day to secure their mobile phones. 'Mr Hooper asked for his phone.' He said by way of explanation whilst he showed Molly up to the staff quarters.

'At last, how long did it take you? Never mind. The body is in there, see what you can glean whilst I talk to Caroline,' he indicated the room up the corridor. 'She found the body.'

He strode away swiftly leaving Molly alone with Marcus who was now looking confused. Molly smiled at him whilst she put on the gloves, 'I'm a doctor you see, that's why he asked for me. He'll want me to see if I can determine the cause and the time of death.'

She spoke slowly and reassuringly knowing that Marcus was probably feeling shocked and vulnerable. He nodded his head as he listened and followed her into Alf's room.

She spent longer than Sherlock with the body, checking for rigour mortis, temperature. She checked his eyes and mouth looking for any discolouration or blood. She felt gently round the skull ensuring he hadn't suffered any head wound prior to the obvious stabbing. She rolled him gently to check for any injuries or stab wounds to his back. All in all she was as thorough as she could be given her lack of equipment.

She used the notepad to jot down any findings including the date and time. The last time she'd helped Sherlock she'd made copious notes. She wasn't sure what he might need and it made her at least feel useful.

She eventually stood up, 'is there any way to secure the room?'

Marcus nodded, 'yeah they all have individual keys, the staff rooms that is. Not that any of us bother. They're normally just left unlocked, we respect each other privacy see. We knock, we don't just walk in. Caroline has a master key but she's the only one. It took them a couple of minutes but they found Alf's key hidden under a letter on his desk. Molly locked the door behind them and went to Caroline's room to find Sherlock.

As she entered Theresa was on her feet looking accusingly at Sherlock.

'I'm sorry so you're telling me you are here undercover and are really some famous detective. I've never heard anything so ridiculous.'

Sherlock drew himself up to his full height and Molly could tell he was about to launch into some vicious evaluation of Theresa and what may or may not be ridiculous. She stepped in front of him cutting him off before he could start.

'I'm sorry but what Sherlock is saying is correct. Caroline contacted him and asked him to come and look into some thefts. Isn't that right Caroline?' She said it softly as she turned to the woman who seemed to have aged twenty years since Molly had last seen her. She couldn't imagine what finding your own son murdered must be like and she hoped she'd never find out.

Caroline nodded her head and in a husky whisper she confirmed what Molly had said.

Molly turned to Sherlock, 'the room is secure. Here's the key. What do you need me to do now?'

'I need to contact Lestrade. I'm suspecting we're on our own with this due to the weather, but we need to check. Find somewhere for the body. It can't stay here, maybe an outhouse or garage, anywhere secure. At worst the conservatory. Somewhere cold anyway.'

Molly nodded her head, 'Marcus has your phone. What should we tell the guests?' She put her hand on Sherlock's arm, 'I don't think we should scare people unnecessarily, particularly if we're stuck here. They'll panic.'

Sherlock narrowed his eyes thinking, 'fine, we'll tell them Alf's been found dead but that we suspect a heart attack. We can't cover up the death but we can alleviate concern. Agreed?' He looked round at Marcus, Theresa and Caroline who all looked at each other before nodding.

Molly and Marcus went downstairs to let everyone know the situation. They had all gathered in the bar area apart from Rob, the heroin addict, whom Molly presumed was still languishing in his bedroom. She made a mental note to check on him later, maybe there was something she could do to help.

They told them all the sad news and watched them break up into small groups and go back to their respective rooms. Hannah stayed back and Molly saw her comforting Marcus before she went back into the dining room to clear up. Marcus turned to Molly.

'How many times have you done this before then? You don't seem phased at all.'

'Honestly, none. I'm a pathologist though so I'm used to seeing the victims of violent crime. I'm just not used to being on the scene when a murder happens though,' she paused as she thought through Sherlock's instructions. 'Is there anywhere suitable for the body?'

Marcus thought for a second before nodding, 'yeah, I think so. There's a kind of shed come workshop at the side of the back garden. I'm sure it's got a clasp for a padlock.'

'Right I'll go and get my coat and boots and we can check. I'll meet you here in ten minutes.'

She took her leave of Marcus and made her way back to her room. Neither of them noticed they were being overheard.

 **Well, I figured we needed a bit more than just thefts to keep them occupied. So a snow in, a budding romance and a murder, is that enough to keep you all interested? Next chapter will be up on Sunday but until then please let me know what you think, and whether you think Zoolander Ben is hot or not :)**


	8. Chapter 8

**Here we are on another Sunday. Is it me or are we rattling towards Christmas at a fast rate of knots. Anyway, you'll be pleased to hear that both the house and the family survived the teenage birthday party and peace now reigns once more. Twelve more months until the next one.**

 **But enough of me you want your chapter and you shall have it. Thank you for all your comment and reviews please keep them coming in.**

 **Chapter 8**

Molly and Marcus had to dig a path to the shed; the snow was that deep. By the time they'd finished Molly was hot and out of breath despite the freezing temperatures. She was very glad to see that the space was suitable. They cleared the workbench and Molly found a sheet of tarpaulin that they could use to wrap and carry the body. It wasn't particularly great forensically but they couldn't leave the body in a warm hotel room indefinitely.

They made their way back to Sherlock and between them they wrapped Alf in the tarp before Marcus and Sherlock carried the body to the shed whilst Molly tried to make sure they weren't seen.

They padlocked the shed and Molly saw Sherlock pocket the key, no doubt keeping it safe along with Alf's room key.

'Did you get a signal on your phone?' She asked as they made their way back into the hotel.

'No, nothing. Marcus is going to check the other mobiles. The landline is down because of the snow so at the moment we have no way of letting the outside world know what is happening.'

They made their way back up to their room to divest themselves of their coats and gloves. Sherlock made up a fire whilst Molly went to the kitchens to get some cups of tea.

'What do we do now?' Molly looked nervously at Sherlock suddenly not liking the idea of being trapped in a snowbound hotel with a killer.

'Now I have to deduce who killed him and why.' They sat down together in front of the fire and Molly listened as Sherlock gave voice to his thoughts.

'So, what do we know about the victim. Aged early forties, never married. Travelled in his youth but returned to help his mother manage the hotel. Weak character, easily influenced. In debt as evidenced by the conversation you overheard. His mother, Caroline is a strong character, has obviously played a great influence in his life, I suspect he was a disappointment to her, she would respect those, like Theresa, who would stand up to her. She seems genuinely upset though and I see no reason for her to want to kill her own son.'

'Could it be connected to the money then?'

'Possibly, possibly I'll need to talk to Ray and find out more about him. So what do we know about the other guests?'

He looked at Molly. 'Why are you asking me? You're the deducer and I've seen you mocking John before now for his thoughts.'

Sherlock frowned, 'I value your opinion Molly, anyway even purile and stupid thoughts can inspire me.'

Molly decided to ignore that last comment and voice her ideas anyway. 'Well, we've already discussed Andy and Claire, I can't see how they would be connected at all, unless Alf tried it on with Claire and Andy got mad...no, no, stupid, I know. Mmmm could Rob have been looking for drugs in the staff quarters, maybe Alf disturbed him and in the scuffle he was stabbed? Guy seems nice enough...oh I never got a chance to tell you. He mentioned he was over here to visit someone he'd fallen in love with a few years back. It sounded a bit one-sided, unrequited,' Molly blushed lightly, 'he said he was going to meet them soon, now I come to think of it, I'm thinking it might be someone in the hotel.'

She looked at Sherlock who was now sat with his eyes closed, leaning his chin on the points of his fingers. As she stopped talking he opened his eyes and pierced her with his clear blue gaze. Molly felt a shiver run through her as she had a sudden recollection of the kiss from last night. She knew it wasn't the right time to mention it but she had to know if it meant anything.

She swallowed and looked away not wanting to meet his eye, 'um Sherlock, about last night...'

'You certainly enjoyed your wine didn't you,' he grinned quickly, 'nothing wrong with that, hope your hangover isn't too bad but for now we need to concentrate on the case. If you've drunk your tea maybe we should go and see who is around. It's time we interviewed some of the suspects.'

'Oh...erm...OK.' Molly got to her feet feeling slightly rebuffed by Sherlock's opaque response. He hadn't really touched on the kiss and whether it meant anything. Maybe she was remembering it as she'd wanted it to be rather than how it was, as he said she **had** been very drunk. Ah well, she'd just have to worry about it later.

'Are you coming Molly or are you planning on just staring into space for the foreseeable future?'

'Sorry, yes I'm coming.' She followed Sherlock out of the door.

They made their way back downstairs and found the two retired couples in the library discussing Alf. They welcomed Sherlock and Molly and started to ghoulishly quiz them for information under the pretence of shock and sympathy.

'Oh it's awful isn't it? I hear Caroline found him. Terrible, terrible.'

'He wasn't that old was he? Young for a heart attack but you never know. I remember the church warden at our last church, he had a heart attack in the vestry, only just turned fifty. He was lucky the vicar had been there or he would have been a goner just like young Alf.'

'Was there a history of heart problems in his family? What did his dad die of anyone know?'

Sherlock suddenly turned to Ray, 'you knew him didn't you? You lent him money, why was that...no hang on, you didn't lend him the money, you play cards don't you, quite well if I recall from last night. So...what, you organised a card night, roped in Alf and played him for the soft touch that he was? How much did he owe you by the end?'

Ray looked at Sherlock horrified before nervously looking at his wife and friends. Molly noticed that Roger was looking a bit sheepish, so he had obviously been in on it.

'It was just a bit of fun, that was all. Alf knew that, anyway he shouldn't have bet more than he was able to pay. Gentlemen pay their debts and he assured me he would once the snow had cleared.'

'How much?' Repeated Sherlock.

'Just over ten thousand.'

Sandra and Greta both inhaled with shock, Greta turned to Roger, 'you knew about it didn't you? How could you let that happen? Alf was nice. He didn't deserve to be conned by him.'

Sandra weighed in at this point, 'Oy, don't make out like butter wouldn't melt in your Roger's mouth. It sounds as if he is just as much to blame as my Ray...'

Sherlock stood and left them to it with Molly following them out. 'That answers that but it makes no sense for Ray to kill his debtor before he's paid.'

They walked into the bar, which was empty, and on into the dining room where an embarrassed Marcus and Hannah sprang apart. Molly smiled at them wondering why they felt the need to hide their relationship. It seemed Sherlock was having similar thoughts.

'I believe congratulations are in order, when are you planning to tell Caroline and Theresa about the engagement?'

Marcus went red and Hannah just smiled smugly, 'how on earth did you know we were engaged?'

'You've obviously been together a while, no doubt you met before you, Marcus, went to University and then Hannah obtained a job here so you could be together during the holidays. You don't tend to do that without some level of commitment. Were you ever planning on telling your mother, Marcus, or is it just a way of keeping Hannah sweet? After all she obviously isn't aware of the girlfriend back in Durham is she.'

Molly closed her eyes and shook her head hoping that this was connected to the case and that Sherlock wasn't just destroying lives for the hell of it. She heard a slap and watched as Hannah ran past her out of the dining room.

Marcus's face screwed up in fury as he lunged at Sherlock, 'you fucking bastard...' Sherlock easily caught his fist, twisting his hand round and up behind Marcus's back. 'You never had any intention of marrying her, only seems fair that she be in on it too. Now I suggest you go back to your room and calm down.' He pushed Marcus away towards the door. Marcus marched past Molly bumping her with his shoulder as he went.

Molly stumbled but didn't fall. In a moment Sherlock was in front of her his hands on her face and shoulder, 'are you OK?'

'Yes, yes I'm fine. Was that really necessary?' Sherlock immediately pulled away from her his face turning into a scowl. 'Yes Molly it was and I would have thought why I'd done it was obvious too.'

Molly frowned, 'not to me it isn't. God I've heard John talking about how you do this...'

'Do what?'

'This,' Molly waved her hand at him, 'assuming everyone else knows what's going on when we, or at least I, don't. I haven't got a clue who might have done this or why you just did that to Marcus and Hannah.'

Sherlock was about to speak when at that moment a flustered Theresa came out from the kitchens, 'have you seen Marcus or Hannah? Only it's time to serve lunch. I'm afraid it's only a cold buffet, what with everything...' She tailed off as tears sprang in her eyes.

Molly immediately moved away from Sherlock and made her way towards Theresa, 'Hey, it's fine, no one will expect anything more. Maybe I can help you serve it. Sherlock can go and ring the bell, can't you.' Molly looked back round at him watching him roll his eyes before going off to do as she asked as she went off to assist Theresa.

Sherlock smiled to himself as he went through the bar and into the hallway to ring the bell _typical Molly always wanting to help._

He came back into the dining room and sat down contemplating his next steps. He was still unsure as to whether the thief was connected to the murder. His tests so far had neither confirmed nor refuted his thinking. But why, maybe because they had been caught in the act of stealing. He needed more information.

Just then Guy Withers came into the dining room, responding to the bell. He greeted Sherlock who smiled to himself before asking Guy to join him.

MHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMH

Neither Marcus nor Hannah reappeared for lunch. Theresa naturally put it down to their distress with Alf's death and Molly was in no mind to refute her conclusion. Molly assisted her in laying out the food and everyone helped themselves. Roger and Greta, who had obviously made up after the fracas of earlier, offered to help clear up after.

Whilst they were eating Molly listened as Sherlock chatted with Guy asking him about his travels around the UK and his life in America. He explained he was from a small town in Ohio, which used to be the capital of the state. He explained his love of walking to Sherlock and that he'd come to the UK to visit old friends.

Sherlock nodded politely and it was only at the end of the meal as Guy stood up to leave that he shocked Molly by asking, 'did Alf recognise you immediately or did you have to remind him who you were?'

Guy's mouth opened and closed like a goldfish for a moment before he sat back heavily in his seat. 'I had to remind him. I recognised him immediately but then I was looking out for him wasn't I?' He said it almost pleadingly, like he was still trying to convince himself that it was OK.

He slumped slightly, 'oh, who am I kidding! Even when I reminded him I was still only a vague memory to him, I certainly wasn't the great love to him that he was to me. He was my first real relationship, you see. The first guy I'd ever slept with, heck the first guy I'd ever kissed. We met soon after I'd moved to New York for work. I was mid-twenties, never been more than fifty miles outside my home town then there I was, slap bang in the middle of New York and for the first time I didn't have to try to hide who I was.'

'I met Alf in a club, he was so English, so cool and foreign, he bought me drinks, told me I was interesting, handsome, sexy even. We slept together that same night and every night that week. We were together almost a month but then he got news that his dad had died and that his mum needed him back home. He promised he'd stay in touch but beyond a couple of postcards and a phone call he didn't.'

'Once he knew who I was he managed to dodge me quite effectively until yesterday. He promised to meet me today in my room after breakfast, but well...you know the rest. I shouldn't have come. It was a stupid, stupid mistake; there was never anything for me here.' He pushed away from the table, standing quickly.

Molly watched him as he smiled sadly at them before walking away to his room.

 **Hopefully the plot is thickening with various people connected to Alf in one way or another, but don't worry the romance side won't be forgotten.**


	9. Chapter 9

**You know what, even though the number of reviews from the last chapter was a bit sad it's a cold day and I'm a bit bored so here I am giving you an extra chapter this week. I hope you enjoy it - maybe let me do if you did. And to those who did review xxx I love you all!**

 **Chapter 9**

Molly and Sherlock separated for the rest of the afternoon. Sherlock went with Theresa to Alf's room to see if there was anything amongst his belongings which would help identify either his killer or the reason for his death.

Before they went Theresa unlocked the safe holding the electronics equipment and Molly spent her time charging up the phones and trying them to see if she could make an emergency call to the police. Hannah came back down just as it was starting to get dark and as the lighting was minimal due to the generator she went in search of the hotel's supply of candles.

Molly tried to comfort her and ask how she was following the revelation by Sherlock that Marcus had been cheating on her but she brushed her off neither seeming upset nor in need of comfort. She seemed eerily calm and Molly worried that she was in denial.

Molly tried the landline once more but it was still dead. Finally on her second to last phone she managed to get a signal, it was weak but there. She hurried upstairs with the phone to find Sherlock.

He quickly punched in Lestrade's personal mobile and he must have answered quite quickly.

'Greg, Sherlock, listen I may not have long, the signal is low. I'm in Saddleworth, John has the location. There has been a murder...yes a murder...well of course I'm sure... For Gods sake I'm calling you because it's quicker than talking to the local police, or at least I thought it would be. We're snowed in. The victim is Alf Greaves, he was stabbed, we found him this...Greg, Greg...damn it we've lost the signal again. Keep this phone charged Molly and keep checking it.'

'How's the search going?'

'Various interesting bits and pieces. Theresa seems to think there is some jewellery missing. There's definite evidence that Alf was trying to raise the money to pay back Ray. Plus I've found some old photos which show Alf with different girls, none with Guy, looks like he was bisexual rather than gay, no evidence for any recent relationship though. I've nearly finished so I'll meet you back in our room; I need to think.'

'OK', Molly hesitated, 'let me know if you need me to do anything else.' He smiled distractedly before picking up some more of the papers he had scattered around him.

Just as she was leaving Sherlock called her back, 'oh and Molly don't tell anyone I got through to Greg, we don't want to unnerve the killer any more than they already are.'

When Molly went back down stairs Hannah was busy placing candles into a variety of different candlesticks ranging from silver and ornate to cheap brass.

'The generator can only provide lighting and electricity to the main areas of the hotel like the bar, the kitchen and the dining room. We'll need the candles for everywhere else including the bedrooms, especially now it getting dark.' She gestured at the window where the overcast sky was giving way to dusk, the shadows starting to lengthen and creep in.

Molly plugged in the phone, in the office behind the reception desk, to maintain the charge and took two of the candles and some matches up with her to the room.

It was chilly in the room when she got there and she quickly set to work to light a new fire. It was eerie with nothing but the candles for light and Molly found herself wishing Sherlock would come back soon. She wasn't easily spooked but sitting there alone listening to the creaks and groans of an old house, especially one housing a killer was not conducive to being at ease.

It was going to take the fire a little while to take hold so she wrapped up in a blanket and sat on the floor with her head on the chair watching the flames. She suddenly felt an overwhelming tiredness, the hangover and the murder all catching up with her. She yawned and closed her eyes.

MHMHMHMHMH

When she started to awake she realised she was lying down with her head propped up on a cushion or pillow. She didn't open her eyes straight away, instead she stretched out a little and brought her hand up to rest by her head on the pillow.

It was only as her hand touched the object under her head that she realised it was neither a pillow not a cushion. It appeared to be a leg. She opened her eyes still half asleep to find she was lying on the rug in front of the fire, which was now burning brightly bathing her in its warmth. Her head was resting on a leg which was clad in a blue pair of jeans; it could only belong to Sherlock. She desperately hoped she hadn't been dribbling as she slept.

She tilted her head so she could look up at him. He appeared to be in his mind palace, his eyes were closed and his hands were in a kind of prayer position underneath his chin. In this light his face was all shadows and shades of grey.

Without opening his eyes he said, 'you looked uncomfortable when I got here and I didn't want to disturb you too much. I trust you haven't got a crick in your neck.'

Molly was torn between wanting to stay exactly where she was and stroke his thigh with her hand and embarrassment at finding she'd been sleeping on Sherlock. The embarrassment won out and she started to push herself up into a seating position, 'no, no I'm fine...err..thank you.'

Sherlock tried not to show his disappointment at the loss of Molly's head and hand on his leg. It had been quite soothing having her there with him whilst he was thinking.

Molly stretched and looked at the time, it was six thirty. She'd been asleep for nearly two hours but felt much better for it. She would have loved a cup of tea but given the lack of electricity she had to make do with a glass of water instead.

She sat back down next to Sherlock feeling a little uncomfortable with the flickering romance of the room, lit only by candles and the fire. The hotel was also quieter than normal. No heaters, clicking on and off, no radios or televisions seeping through from other rooms, just the sound of the wind outside and the fire inside.

She wasn't sure whether to talk to Sherlock or not so she's erred on the side of caution and kept quiet, she didn't want to disturb his concentration. His eyes were still closed and she couldn't help watching him. He looked like an ivory statue sitting there so still in the semi-darkness. She was so tempted to reach out and touch his face, slide her thumb across his cheekbone. Even amidst all the shock of the murder her attraction for him was still there and as alive as ever. She bit her lip feeling her body reacting to his presence, wanting to be touched by him. It was almost erotic just watching him without being able to do more. God, she was frustrated and she had no way of release.

It was at that moment with that thought in her head that he opened his eyes and looked at her, his blue eyes piercing hers. Neither of them said anything and the room seemed filled with a strange kind of electric tension. Molly felt her mouth run dry; she couldn't look away from him. She noticed that his pupils were wide, probably due to the lack of light she thought to herself, but it made them looked lust filled. Something she never thought she would see on his face.

He lowered his hands from their prayer pose and tilted his body towards her, 'Molly...'

It was then that the gong rang out signalling dinner, breaking the connection between them. Molly almost had to shake her head as though she were coming out of a trance, _what was that?_ She thought.

Tonight, neither of them bothered to change and when they went down they saw it was the same for everyone else. The formality of the hotel lost in the familiarity of their shared imprisonment and the shadow of death.

The meal was simple but tasty and afterwards, just as they had the night before they all retired to the bar, with the addition tonight of the writer. The atmosphere however, couldn't have been more different. The games and the laughter from the night before giving way to quiet, muted conversations.

Angela Smith made no hesitation as she came over and sat with Molly and Sherlock, 'I hear that you helped Caroline when Alf was found dead. Correct?'

Sherlock merely inclined his head in acknowledgement.

'I need to see the body!'

Molly frowned, 'can I ask why?'

'I know Caroline said that it was a heart attack but I have reason to suspect it was murder.'

Sherlock snorted and Angela looked round at him with an angry, haughty look on her face, 'I don't think you realise who I am young man. I am a celebrated writer and not just of any old books. No, my specialism is crime and for that reason I think I am uniquely qualified, in a way you aren't, to know whether or not this is murder. So, the body?'

Sherlock opened his mouth and Molly didn't know whether to laugh or cry at what he might say. They were still trying to stay in character as Will and Molly, to the rest of the guests, so now was not the time for Sherlock to tear someone apart with his deductions.

She put her hand on his upper thigh (it could have been on his arm, but where was the fun in that), eliciting a sharp gasp from Sherlock, 'it's alright darling, I've got this.' She turned back to Angela, 'I'm a doctor, Ms Wright, and I examined Alf shortly after his body was found. I can assure you that there was no sign of any...erm...foul play. Please don't worry yourself.'

Angela pursed her lips in displeasure, 'well I was hardly worried.' Her eyes took on a slightly glazed look, 'It would, however, make for an intriguing story don't you think. A murder in an isolated hotel, the guests cut off from civilisation with only their wits to help them survive. Oh yes, I could have a lot of fun with that. If you'll excuse me.'

As she walked away Sherlock put his hand over Molly's, on his thigh, his hand engulfing her small one. She looked at him surprised and he leant towards her to whisper in her ear, 'hmm I never realised how manipulative you can be when you want to be.'

She shivered at the feeling of his breath on her neck, his closeness, she dropped her head and said shyly, 'sorry, I was just worried you were getting angry and going to say something daft.'

She tried to pull her hand away but he held it in place, 'no, it's OK; I like it when you take control.'

She looked up sharply, a confused look on her face. She was about to ask him what he meant when Andy and Claire sat down with their drinks.

'Hey you two. Oh this business about Alf is awful isn't it? Put a real downer on the party eh!'

Molly saw Claire roll her eyes and sigh and she felt sad at this relationship in front of her, so obviously falling apart.

'It doesn't look like the weathers going to clear up anytime soon either, does it?' Claire said, trying to change the subject. 'I have to say though, I love the feeling of the hotel rooms when they're just lit by candles and fire-light. So romantic, don't you think?' She looked so sad though when she said the last that Molly almost wanted to hug her.

'Hmm yes, very evocative. My Molly looks so beautiful by fire light, I'm very lucky to have her.'

Molly blushed bright red at Sherlock's words even as she told herself internally that he was just playing a role. She tried to smile happily though and looked up at him. He smiled back at her and she couldn't get over how sincere he seemed.

'Seriously, how long have you two been together because it is sickly.' Andy joked and laughed before Claire smacked his arm.

'Stop it. I think it's sweet. Maybe you should have been the same instead of...' She broke of quickly with a strangled sob. She looked almost frantically at Molly and Sherlock, 'sorry...I...I think I need an early night.' She stood up and left leaving Andy looking angry and frustrated, 'Bloody Hell! Sorry, I'd best go after her.'

Sherlock took his hand off Molly's and sat back in his chair, 'my brother always said that caring wasn't an advantage and I think those two are living proof of that.'

Molly knew Mycroft, she'd had the displeasure of his company in her morgue on more than one occasion but she'd never heard Sherlock talk about him before.

'Well, if you want my opinion, which you probably don't, I think your brother is an idiot. And he's fooling himself as well as you given his obvious feelings for his PA.'

Sherlock narrowed his eyes and tilted his head as he looked at his pathologist, how did she always see things that so many others didn't. He had long known of Mycroft's feelings for Anthea, unrequited though they were but how had Molly seen that?

He asked her as much.

'I just see how he looks at her; his face softens, not by much mind. Just enough. I also know she has a fiancé, she mentioned him briefly when I got engaged to Tom. So when your brother talks about caring not being an advantage he's just relating it to his own experience. It isn't like that for everyone. You do know that...right?'

Sherlock had never thought about his brother's words in that light before, but he had to acknowledge that Molly was most probably right. Maybe he shouldn't have put so much stock in what Mycroft had said.

Molly continued, 'Well, it looks like it's too late for Andy and Claire. It's always sad to see a relationship break down. Well, maybe not to you because you don't get it, but to the rest of us.'

Sherlock's face hardened at that last comment. He knew Molly probably didn't mean anything by it but it still stung that she saw him like that. He had been hoping that their intimacy over the last few days had made her see that he was changing… had changed. Why was she so blind to the possibility he could genuinely have feelings for her? He could almost hear John's voice in his head, _because you haven't bloody well told her you git._

Maybe now was the time to put that right.

 **Could this be a turning point for Sherlock? You'll just have to wait until Wednesday to find out ;).**


	10. Chapter 10

**Thank you for all your reviews - you really cheered me up :).**

 **As for this chapter to change the rating or not to change the rating that is the question. I think we skate close here but it's just about OK. Piqued your interest? Then read on but do let me know if you feel it should be M rated and I'll change it over.**

 **Chapter 10**

Or maybe not. Before he could respond they were called over to sit with the other guests who had pulled the tables together so they could sit as one large group.

Sherlock ended up being drawn into conversation with Guy and Roger, whilst Molly chatted with Lorraine one of the group of business people.

Molly ended up going up to their room before he could get away, giving him a quick kiss on his cheek as she went. By the time he left and made his way up she was fast asleep in their bed, her arm flung onto his side and her hair fanned out around her head.

He sat on the edge of the bed for a couple of minutes watching her as she slept. He had come here for a reason, to change his relationship with Molly, and instead he had become side-tracked into this murder. He needed to make sure he didn't lose sight of his original goal.

He was almost tempted to wake her but it seemed selfish so instead he changed and slid under the covers next to her, pulling her against him his arm wrapped round her shoulder and her head tucked against his neck. He kissed the top of her head and wondered how this could feel so right and yet when he had to put it into words he always struggled.

MHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMH

When Molly awoke it was still early in the morning, the room still dark with just the barest tendrils of daylight starting to creep around the curtains. She found herself wrapped up, once again, with Sherlock; as though they were magnets drawn together in the night.

His arm was flung out under her shoulder, hers across his chest; her leg lying across one of his. She tilted her head slightly to see his face just an inch or so from hers; his expression relaxed, his eyes closed.

She bit her lip feeling her body starting to respond to his closeness. She felt as though she were still half asleep, in some teasing, tortuous dream. Without even thinking through what she was doing or why she leant up and kissed him.

It started as a press of lips against lips but slowly it became something more. She could feel the full length of her body as it pressed against his, her chest pressed against his side her leg sliding over his. She found herself wanted to move against him, needing friction to feed her arousal.

His right arm came over and wrapped around her holding her close and she heard him groan as the kiss deepened. Still it seemed dreamlike to her, neither of them fully awake, just acting on instinct.

Her hand slid round to his back feeling his muscles moving, grateful that he slept half naked. Gradually he moved them over so she was lying under him feeling his weight pressing into her. Still they hadn't broken the kiss and Molly felt dizzy and so desperately horny. She pushed her hips up into his and he responded, driving himself against her. It seemed he was as needy for her as she was for him.

It was Sherlock that broke the kiss first his mouth dropping to her neck as he kissed down her throat his hand massaging her breast through her top. She brought one of her hands up to thread into his curls, opening her eyes and starting to take in the fact that this was real and not just a dream. She gasped as she felt the warmth of his mouth on her through the thin material of her top. His hand reached down to push the material out of the way.

She could have screamed with frustration therefore when there was a banging on their door, 'Will...Mr Hooper...are you there?'

Sherlock looked at the door and then back at Molly. He closed his eyes briefly and pursed his lip before he pushed away from her, grabbing his dressing gown as he went to answer the door.

Molly pulled the covers up to her shoulders and listened as he opened the door. He couldn't hide his irritability, 'yes, what?'

It was Lorraine. Molly could just make her out over Sherlock's shoulder. 'I'm so sorry to bother you. I spoke to Marcus and he said to get you. It's Rob. He's gone, we...we think he might have left the hotel.'

There was a beat of silence before Sherlock responded. 'We'll meet you in the bar in ten minutes.'

He closed the door and turned back to Molly who just nodded her head to acknowledge that she had heard then he headed to the bathroom.

Molly swung her legs out of the bed and sat on the edge for a moment just trying to gather her thoughts. Her hand came up to her neck where she could almost still feel his lips just a few short moments ago. What had they nearly done? And more importantly what did this even mean, for their friendship, for them? She sighed heavily, now wasn't the time, she knew that but it didn't help her feelings or her growing sexual frustration.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

Sherlock was just as frustrated as Molly but his mind was also whirling through the implications of this new development. Was Rob's disappearance purely to do with his addiction or was it connected to the murder?

He left Molly brushing her teeth and made his way down to the bar. He needed some separation from her anyway, otherwise he was likely to just ignore the case and push her up against the wall and...but no, he needed to concentrate.

When he got to the bar he found Alan and Lorraine sat together. Alan had his arm around Lorraine who had obviously been crying. Marcus was also there, still him his pyjamas and a dressing gown, they had obviously woken him when they had discovered Rob was missing.

'Tell me!'

Lorraine looked up at Sherlock's sharp tone but he had no desire to soften it. He just wanted the facts as quickly as possible. In the end it was Alan that spoke.

'Well, as you know Rob hasn't been well the last day or so. He's been getting increasingly worse, we thought it was just flu but...'

'He's a heroin addict; I know that, move on.'

Alan gasped for a second before he recovered himself, 'we didn't know, we just thought...it was only when we spoke to him last night that we realised. He was desperate; delirious. He kept saying that he knew that he was going to make sure he got what he needed...it made no sense. We last saw him about 9.00pm last night. We just told him to get some sleep and that he'd feel better in the morning.'

'Anyhow, we went to our rooms but Lorraine said she couldn't sleep. She came and woke me about half an hour ago..'

'Lies!'

'I...err...I'm sorry?' Alan looked confused, his eyes flicking between Sherlock and Marcus.

Sherlock sighed, 'lies. I said lies. You didn't go to your respective rooms and Lorraine didn't come and wake you. You both went to your room, Alan, where you no doubt shagged before falling asleep together. Now, carry on.'

'Now, look here...' Alan stood up as though he was about to square off against Sherlock. It was at that moment that Molly walked in, having heard the tail end of the conversation.

She quickly inserted herself between Sherlock and Alan holding up her hands placatingly, 'it's alright, no one cares about your affair. Let's just concentrate on Rob.' She turned to Lorraine, 'you were worried about him?'

Lorraine sniffed, shredding the tissue in her hands, 'yes. I woke up and couldn't sleep. I asked Alan to check on him, just to make sure he was sleeping...you know. I just...had a bad feeling that was all.'

Alan picked up the story again, 'when we got to his door it was ajar. His coat and boots are missing. We checked the exits to the hotel and that's when we found the door out of the library unlocked and there are footprints. That's when we went and woke up Marcus and he said to get you.' Alan looked a little quizzical as though he hoped Sherlock would explain but he just ignored it turning instead to Marcus.

'I suppose we'll have to go after him and see if we can find him. Is there anywhere nearby he could walk too?'

Marcus shook his head, 'no, nothing. It's at least two miles to the nearest house and in this weather, on foot, it would be almost impossible. You can't even see the road and if you lose your bearings...' They all silently acknowledged the likely outcome of being lost in the moors in this weather.

Sherlock turned to Alan, 'go wake up Andy. He, Marcus and I will go out and see if we can follow his tracks. Marcus see if you can find Andy and myself something appropriate to wear. We'll need maps, compass, medical kit anything you can find. Alan, Molly and Lorraine and any of the others should search the hotel and the outbuildings to make sure he isn't hidden somewhere. Let's all go and get ready, meet back here in fifteen minutes.'

After locating some clothing with Marcus Sherlock set off back to the room with Molly almost having to run to keep up with him, 'Sherlock are you sure? The weather is still terrible, the tracks will most likely be covered.' She caught his arm and pulled him round to face her, 'I'm worried, I don't want anything to happen to you.'

He looked as though he would pull away from her but at the last moment his face softened, 'I'll be fine. But something about this is not right Molly, I think somehow this is linked to the murder, he may well be our next victim. We need to find him alive if we can.'

He pulled on the clothes and grabbed another jumper and his coat and was about to leave the room when he hesitated. He turned and covered the distance to Molly in two strides. Without saying a word he pulled her too him with his one free arm and kissed her. It was a bruising, passionate kiss and Molly clung to him for balance.

Then he was gone, without another word, leaving a breathless and still very much confused Molly in his wake.

 **Well, it was about time we had a bit of action wasn't it, albeit interrupted. Back on Friday so see you all soon.**


	11. Chapter 11

**Glad you all seem to agree with the current rating and for those that were enquiring don't worry it will change and probably quite soon ;). Anyway in other news I'm enjoying all the new Christmas special pictures that are being released, not long to go now. I wonder if we'll all be writing Victoriana after the New Year. I did start one once but never carried it on...who knows maybe someday I'll take it further.**

 **Chapter 11**

Sherlock and the others seemed to have been gone for hours. Molly couldn't help but keep glancing at her watch every five or ten minutes. When she wasn't doing that she was looking out of the windows at the increasingly blizzard like weather. She should never have let him go.

The first hour had passed quickly enough as the other guests awoke to the news and various groups and pairings were sent out to check the hotel, the garages and other outbuildings, but there was no sign of either the missing Rob or the search party.

They were all waiting together in the library for Marcus, Andy and Sherlock to return. Theresa and Hannah had brought them a regular supply of tea and coffee whilst Alan and Roger had built a fire in the grate which was now burning away merrily bathing them all in a welcome warmth as they looked out at the progressively desperate conditions.

It had been almost two hours and Molly was fighting back tears when Guy, who was positioned at the closed door looking out of the window, called out, 'I see something.'

They all stood at this news, gathering at the windows looking towards the black smudges that could be seen making their way back towards the hotel. There appeared to be two people, possibly carrying a third. Molly squinted, trying to make out what and who she was seeing.

As they got closer she sighed in relief, sagging against the window sill as she recognised Sherlock's jacket. He was one of the two that was helping the third. At the same time Claire cried out, 'Andy!' And she flung open the door letting in a blast of cold air and a swirl of snowflakes which melted as soon as they hit the heated air of the library.

Sherlock and Marcus finally made it into the hotel almost carrying Andy between them. As they came in Roger and Guy took Andy from them and carried him over to a nearby settee. Greta closed the door behind them and said something about Theresa and a first aid kit, but all Molly could focus on was Sherlock who had collapsed to his knees on the floor.

She was by his side in a moment her hands lifting his face. He was icy cold with snow stuck to his hair and the hood of his coat. He looked on the verge of passing out from exhaustion. He tried to smile but didn't quite have the energy. Molly started to take off his wet jacket and called Alan over to help get him closer to the fire. When he was sat in a chair with a blanket over his knees, she knelt at his feet holding his hands, rubbing them to try and get some heat into him; she knew the others were doing the same for Andy and Marcus.

Sandra came over with a mug of tea for Sherlock and he nodded his head in acknowledgment. 'It was no good we couldn't find him. We followed the footprints for almost an hour but the conditions were getting worse. Then Andy fell, hit his head on some rock or other below the snow. We had to turn back...got lost twice...I thought at one point we wouldn't make it. You have no idea how glad I was to see the hotel...to see you.'

He closed his eyes and let his head fall back on the chair. After a couple of minutes his breathing evened out and Molly knew he was asleep, the exertion of the morning catching up with him. She stood and kissed his forehead as she finally looked round at everyone else.

It was then that her doctoring instincts kicked in and she made her way over to Andy to check on his head wound. She internally berated herself for not doing that first, he had probably needed her the most but all she had been able to think of was Sherlock.

Claire looked at her worriedly as Molly checked him over. There was a lot of blood and swelling but the wound itself was more of a surface one. Molly used a couple of Steri-stitches from the first aid kit to close up the gash and assured Claire and the others that it wasn't serious. They set about cleaning him up and making sure he was warm. Any of them could have repaired to their rooms and probably should have in the case of Sherlock and Marcus who were both fast asleep, but it felt as though none of them wanted to be alone.

In the end a buffet table was set up in the corner and they all quietly sat around eating sandwiches and cake. Each lost in their own thoughts with the occasional glance out at the worsening conditions. It was unspoken but they all knew that if Rob had not found some sort of shelter the chances were he had lost his life out there in the unrelenting cold.

It was another hour before Sherlock awoke. He threw off the blanket moaning to Molly that he wasn't an invalid as he rubbed his face and stretched. For once he actually sought out some food and sat in silence looking into the fire, as he ate.

As soon as he'd finished he went and had a quick word with Lorraine before he indicated with a nod of his head for Molly to follow him.

'What are we doing?' She asked once they were clear of the library.

'We need to search Rob's room. I'm more convinced than ever that he knew something. Alan said he was rambling last night but he kept saying he'd seen something, that he'd get them to make it right. You said the other day that Rob could have searched the staff rooms looking for drugs. What if he did? What if he saw the murder and decided to blackmail the murderer?'

'But why would he voluntarily leave the hotel?'

'I don't know. Here we are… the Belgravia suite. Why do they all have such ridiculous names?' He pushed the door open and they went in. In the absence of any lights Molly opened the curtains so they could see what they were doing.

It was similarly furnished to their own room and didn't take long to search. Like them he only had a suitcase with the addition of a briefcase holding a few work related files. Hidden in the bottom of his suitcase, wrapped up in a plastic bag, was the evidence of his addiction the empty bag which had held his drugs, the tourniquet and the syringe.

It made Molly sad seeing the remains of his life laid out like this. It was as though his disappearance hadn't seemed real up until this moment and she put a hand across her mouth fighting back tears. Sherlock noticed as he was throwing the clothes back into the suitcase. He hesitated wondering what to do or say. Comforting people was not something he did but this wasn't just someone, this was Molly and she needed him.

In the end he just stepped forward and put his arms around her holding her close. He felt her sob once against his chest as she clutched at him. She felt so small in his arms and he felt a determination to protect her. He knew in that moment he would do whatever he had to to keep her safe, whether it was now or in the future.

She pulled away and wiped her face quickly as she looked up at him. 'What is this Sherlock?' She motioned between the two of them.

He knew he should just tell her, just say something but as always the words seemed to fail him. He shook his head, 'not now, not here, we need to find out who's doing this. I'm worried there will be more deaths and I'm sure I know who it might be, I just need proof.' Come on. As a type of consolation for his lack of words he took her hand and led her from the room.

'Where are we going now?' Molly whispered.

'I think it's about time we had a look through Caroline's office.' They went to it via their bedroom so that Sherlock could collect his lock picking kit.

'Why don't you just tell Caroline what you need to do? I don't see the need to break in.'

'The less people who know what I...what we are doing the better. I have a good idea now as to who is responsible; I just need to confirm my suspicions.'

A few minutes later Molly was keeping an eye out whilst Sherlock bent at the lock. It took him less than a minute before the door opened and he pulled her inside. The glass window between the office and reception gave them enough light to search by and Sherlock and Molly quickly began looking for the staff files. There wasn't a lot in the office so they found them fairly quickly and Sherlock scoured over them.

They had just finished and were putting the files away when they heard voices coming towards the office door. Molly looked frantically at Sherlock who was opening the only other door in the room then he pulled Molly with him into the small storage cupboard the door closing just as the door to Caroline's office opened and Marcus and Hannah came in. Molly could hear their voices but couldn't quite make out what was being said. It appeared to be quite a heated discussion though.

It was only then that she realised the situation that she and Sherlock had got themselves into. The cupboard was barely big enough to hold one person let alone two. Sherlock was backed up against the shelves almost having to sit on one of them and Molly was pressed up against his chest with one of his legs between her own. His arm was around her back holding the door closed and her hands were resting on his chest. She could feel his body heat through the palms of her hand and her nose was filled with the deliciously familiar scent of him.

She looked up and could just make out his face from the chinks of light coming through the edges of the door. Just at that moment he looked down at her and caught her gaze and they both smiled awkwardly at each other before looking away. Molly could feel Sherlock's chest rise and fall with each breath that he took and she could feel his heart beat under her right hand. She had never consciously been so close to him before and it was overwhelming her.

 **So I'm going to blame Mizjoely and her Sherlolly lists for this one as I came across a list entitled Closet/Storage and I realised I hadn't done anything like that so I felt inspired. You can look forward to reading it on Sunday.**

 **For those who don't want to read M rated maybe just skip the next chapter ;).**


	12. Chapter 12

**So here we are on another cold, wet Sunday but in Sherlolly world things are hotting up and we've moved to an M rating. If you prefer T then just skip this chapter and I'll continue to alert you to any bits you might want to avoid.**

 **Chapter 12**

Sherlock adjusted slightly trying to get more comfortable and Molly realised more acutely her predicament. As his leg shifted he rubbed against her and as she was pretty much sitting on his leg it caused all kinds of shockwaves through her body. She almost moaned out loud and had to bite her lip so as to not make any noise. Her sexual frustration with Sherlock and from spending time with him over the last few days suddenly seemed front and centre in her brain.

She could feel her arousal building and desperately tried to distract herself from the way his leg was pressing into her, she would only have to rock her hips to gain more friction and she couldn't do that, she couldn't.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

Sherlock, meanwhile, had not only noticed their intimate position but he had heard the hitch in Molly's breathing as he had moved and he'd realised that she was becoming sexually stimulated; none of which did anything to help his own situation which was just as precarious. He had tried and failed to make out what was being said in the main body of the room but now all his attention seemed to be focused on each point where his body touched with Molly's.

Her hands were on his chest, her breasts flattened against him, her breathing causing hot puffs of air on his neck, his arm touching her back and his leg between hers. He could feel her centre almost burning his thigh causing a chain reaction straight to his burgeoning erection.

Slowly he brought his other hand from its position on the shelf where he was perched to Molly's back. As he rested his palm on her spine he heard a slight gasp and Molly moved forwards which only caused her to rest more heavily on his leg. He couldn't help it; he pushed his leg up rubbing Molly's centre. He knew it would only serve to frustrate them both further but it was as though he had lost all control of his actions.

Molly leant her forehead against his chest and her right hand moved to grip the material of his t shirt. He could feel her nails scrap over his nipple making him jolt which only aroused her further. It was like a deliciously virtuous circle of movement and reaction.

If Sherlock could, at that moment in time, have lifted Molly and impaled her upon himself he would have done it. He couldn't honestly remember being more turned on. She rocked slightly against him and as she did her stomach pressed against his erection. He sensed rather than felt her hesitate as she noticed his physical reaction to her. If she had ever doubted his heterosexuality before she didn't need to anymore.

MHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMH

Molly couldn't bear it any longer, the need to move, to rub herself against him was almost painful. Her pelvic muscles were starting to contract and pulse with the need to orgasm. Not doing anything was just making it all worse. She couldn't help it; she rocked herself slightly on his thigh, riding his leg. It was only then that she fully realised she wasn't the only one who was suffering.

She could feel Sherlock's erection pressed against her stomach and she felt his whole body shudder as she moved. Slowly she lifted her head and looked up at him. His eyes were tight shut, his head leant back against the shelves. She slid her hand up his chest and curled it around his neck feeling the tickle of his hair on her knuckles.

He looked down at her and without either knowing who had made the first move they kissed. It was such a slow, deep kiss. His hand on her back pulled her closer, pulling her against him and she knew she was close. She could feel the pressure of his leg on her centre and she couldn't help but continue to rock ever so slightly back and forth feeling the build-up. She almost felt like it was an out of body experience. She could see what she was doing, see what was going to happen but she had no control to stop it.

She came and any noise she made was swallowed by Sherlock kissing her, his tongue deep in her mouth his hand bunching the material of her top as he gripped it tight. She gave a last aching shudder and she broke the kiss breathing heavily as she tried to get her emotions under control. Sherlock carried on kissing her neck and she was conscious that he was still suffering.

And suffering he was, his mind was in complete turmoil, hormones laying waste to any logical thought he might have had. He needed to come, he didn't know how, he just knew he had to and it wasn't going to be whilst he was stuck here in this ridiculous cupboard.

As Molly came down from her high he listened, he couldn't hear any noise outside. He gently eased the cupboard door open and leant around Molly as much as he could so he could see out. They appeared to be safe, the room now empty. He no longer cared about the search though, no longer cared about breaking into the safe, which he had been about to do next. Instead he took Molly's hand and pulled her out of the cupboard, out of the office and up the stairs to their room.

His hands were shaking as he extracted the key from his pocket and opened the door and as he unlocked it Molly hesitantly said his name. She sounded as if she were worried that he was angry but she couldn't be further from the truth. Eventually the door was open and he almost dragged Molly inside before pushing her back against the door using their weight to close it behind them. Then they were kissing again. This time both of them were moaning. Sherlock tore at Molly's clothing not caring whether items were damaged; he just needed to remove them.

It was as though the unspoken attraction between them over the last few days had finally found an outlet and they were both powerless to stop it. He could feel Molly's hand pulling his t shirt up and over his head. They broke the kiss for barely a second to remove it and throw it on the floor. He could feel her tugging at the button on his jeans and unzipping them and then she was touching him, holding him in her hand. He couldn't help but push against her grip desperate for some relief. He'd managed to remove her shirt and bra and he pushed her trousers and pants down, glad that they were quite loose as they fell to the ground.

He picked her up feeling her wrap her legs around his hips and for a moment he was tempted to just fuck her up against the door. Instead he turned them both and took the two or three steps to the edge of the bed where they fell in an ungainly heap. Molly giggled before wrapping her hand back around his cock pumping it tentatively once or twice smiling as he closed his eyes and groaned, his head dropping onto her chest as he savoured the feeling.

He pulled back briefly to remove the rest of his clothes and he ached to feel her on him again. Molly moved further up onto the bed and then held her arms out to him as he joined her. This time everything was right, there was no need for silence, no clothes in the way just the two if them finally together.

They kissed again and it seemed slower and more passionate as though they knew they now had all the time in the world and they could savour it. He could feel Molly beneath him as he rested between her legs. Her warmth was like a beacon guiding him home. He felt her hand take hold of him once again but this time she lifted her knees and used her hand to position him so he could just push forward and enter her.

He went as slow as he was able, fighting the urge to thrust into her, wanting to enjoy every sensation. It had been years since he'd been physically intimate with somebody. He'd gone through at least a decade of thinking he never would be again, but Molly had changed all that. Bit by bit she had turned his world on its head and he had no regrets.

He had broken the kiss whilst he concentrated on entering her. His cheek was against hers, his eyes tight shut as he tried to control his breathing and his reactions to her. He could feel her hands on his back urging him on and he pressed into her until there was nothing left, until he could feel their hips pressed together.

'God, Molly, you feel so good.' He meant every word, he felt sheathed in her, connected to her in a way he had never experienced before. His previous sexual encounters whilst varied had never been emotional. He had had more than his fair share of nameless, faceless fucks, male and female, sober, drunk and high but none of them had felt like this. None of them had actually meant anything.

He withdrew just as slowly before plunging back into her. She cried out at the sensation and he knew that she was as close to a second orgasm as he was to his first, he could tell the way her muscles were starting to convulse around him. He bent to kiss her again as he accelerated his thrusts until he was driving into her again and again. He was on the very edge of conscious thought just acting on pure need and desire.

He knew the moment she came, could feel it throughout his whole body, from the clenching muscles around his erection, to her hands scrabbling across his back her nails deliciously biting into his skin, to her voice crying out **his** name and he couldn't hold it back any longer. He climaxed, feeling himself streaming his seed into her. It seemed to last forever and even after he was spent and he'd collapsed onto her his hips still rocked against her, his body juddering with aftershocks of sensation.

Finally, aware that he must be crushing her, he moved to lie at the side of her, his arm and leg still wrapped across her holding her to him.

 **So they've finally 'got it on'. Please let me know what you thought of it and whether it was the right time and place.**


	13. Chapter 13

**I need to get a bit of a shuffle on with this fic otherwise I'm going to start overlapping with my Christmas fic which is turning out a bit longer than I expected. Who's ready for Christmas then? Although I expect there are a few of you out there who don't even celebrate. Well, wherever you are in the world I hope you are happy and safe.**

 **Chapter 13**

They lay catching their breath for a moment, each lost in their own thoughts. Sherlock couldn't remember a time where his mind had felt more at peace. He was so used to the whirling thoughts and maelstrom of ideas and stimulation constantly attacking his senses, but in this moment his mind felt clear; his only thoughts the memories of what they had just done. She was worth the wait and he would never ever let her go.

Molly, meanwhile was starting to realise the enormity of what they had just done and she was worried about how Sherlock would react. This was so far outside anything she had ever imagined him actually doing (fantasies didn't count here) she couldn't imagine how he must be feeling.

She bit her lip and couldn't help but tense up slightly as she looked over at him.

His eyes were closed, his face more relaxed than she had ever seen it before. He had a small smile playing on his luscious lips. 'Stop worrying Molly' he said without reacting to her in any other way.

She sat up slightly so she was leaning on her elbow looking down at him, 'I can't help it, what we just did Sherlock was...'

He finally opened his eyes, looking up at her '...was amazing, Molly. At least it was for me and I don't think it needs much, if any, deducing to say it was for you too.'

'But where does that leave us now... I'll understand if it's a one off thing.' Sherlock could have laughed at the contradiction between her words and her body language.

He sat up so he was matching her pose, facing her. He pretended to give it some thought watching as her face started to crease with concern. Then he leant forward and captured her lips in a slow kiss, letting his arm snake around her waist pulling her back towards him.

He felt her hands in his hair and he fell backwards pulling her on top of him as the kiss continued. Finally he pulled back and smiled, 'I have no intention of that being a one off thing Doctor Hooper but maybe right now we should get dressed again, the lack of a fire in this room isn't going to do my manhood any favours and I want you to continue to think well of me.'

She laughed with relief at his confirmation that this was more than a one off thing as much as at his feeble attempt at a joke. She did have to admit though that now their initial frustration had been sated it was rather cold.

She had planned on just redressing but as she held up her torn shirt and heard Sherlock's deep laugh she realised she might have to raid her limited wardrobe for a new top.

'So, what do we do now?' She asked as she finished putting her shoes back on. Sherlock pulled her to her feet and against his chest as he bent to kiss her, 'now...' Another kiss, 'I'm tempted to undress you again,' another kiss, 'but I suppose I ought...' Another kiss, 'to solve this crime first.'

Molly felt as though she were either in a dream or some kind of alternate reality, Sherlock was acting in as un-Sherlock a way as she'd ever seen him.

She pulled away and looked up at him, 'I'm sorry where has the real Sherlock Holmes gone and what have you done with him?'

'I have no doubt he'll return at some point but right now he's enamoured with a girl, and not just any girl, the girl who has turned his world on its head.' He gave her a last quick peck on the lips and sighed before he let her go, 'but we do really need to solve these murders and I think it's time to set a trap.'

She put her hand on his arm, 'just...just don't put yourself in any danger.'

'Pfft, I'll be fine Molly. I've already come back from the dead; this is a walk in the park.'

They left their room and made their way down to the bar. It was just before seven and Molly could smell that their dinner was nearly ready. She felt starving all of a sudden, probably a result of post-coital bliss. She also felt as though she had to keep pinching herself to check she was awake and that this was actually real. As Sherlock went to the empty bar and poured them both a drink she watched him; almost unable to believe that they had just had sex. That she, little Molly Hooper, had finally had sex with Sherlock Holmes, great sex, and not only that but he seemed to want a relationship with her.

A smile spread over her face that she wasn't sure she'd ever be able to wipe off. As he came back over to her he narrowed his eyes at the expression in her face before breaking into a similar knowing smile himself.

'Molly, if you keep looking at me like that I'm never going to be able to bring this case to a conclusion.'

'I can't help it. It's just starting to sink in. Us...this, it doesn't seem real.' She put her hand on his face letting her thumb slide over his cheek. She frowned, 'this isn't some kind of ploy is it Sherlock?'

He frowned, 'oh for goodness sake Molly, what do you take me for? Do you really think I'd have sex with you as some kind of manipulation?...no, don't answer that. Listen, I know I've done some dubious things in the past but this is not one of them...I promise.'

She leant up and revelled in being able to just kiss him whenever she wanted. She could get used to this.

They broke apart when they were joined by Roger and Greta followed soon after by the other guests, all gathering for dinner. Marcus finally appeared to man the bar and the room was filled with subdued conversations.

After dinner everyone reconvened in the bar; the atmosphere was slightly brighter due to the news that the snow had finally stopped falling and the weather report for the next day was showing much higher temperatures. Everyone was hoping for an end to this forced seclusion especially given the circumstances surrounding both Alf and Rob's deaths.

Caroline finally joined them in the bar. To Molly she still looked older and thinner than she had when they had first arrived; Alf's death had hit her hard. Whether purposefully or not Sherlock had seated himself and Molly at the bar where Marcus was serving and Hannah was balancing the till.

Caroline quietly sat with them and they were joined shortly after by Theresa who was obviously worried about her mother, fussing over her, offering to fetch her a cardigan or another drink.

'Tell me about Alf. The key to his death is in the details of his life.' Sherlock kept his voice fairly quiet so as not to alarm the other guests but those at the bar could all hear comfortably.

Caroline smiled ruefully, 'oh, he was always such an easy child. Not especially bright, but quiet, easy to love, you know. Theresa here was always the outspoken one, the rebel, taking after me in both brains and looks.' She patted Theresa's arm affectionately. 'Alf didn't have that many friends growing up, one or two, but no more.'

'What about girlfriends...boyfriends?' Caroline's eyes narrowed briefly in anger as Sherlock asked the questions and Molly could see her face harden slightly.

She pursed her lips, 'well there were the usual gold-diggers hanging around. We have money you see and people are always attracted by that. Alf never saw it, he was always far too gullible. There were a couple of girls, in particular, who worked here who tried to trap him. I particularly remember one who even went so far as to say she was pregnant, little slut. Even if it had been Alf's there was no way I was going to let him get tied down like that, he was only nineteen.'

'What did you do?' Asked Molly slightly horrified at the harsh tone in Caroline's voice.

'Well, for starters we sent Alf to America for a while. My brother was out there and offered to put him up and give him some temporary work in New York. As for the girl, my husband, Alf's father, had words with her and paid her off. If she was pregnant, and I doubt she was, she probably got rid of it. We never heard from her again. Anyway, just under a year later Doug died and we had to bring Alf back home to help run this place.'

'I know he's had various flings over the years but there was never anyone serious. He was quite happy with the work, never expressed any desire to travel again. He was a bit of a lost cause with money though. I would never have been able to leave the hotel to him; he would have gambled it all away with twelve months. No, Theresa is the one due to inherit. Alf would always have had a home here but she's the one with the ability to take over.'

Theresa smiled at her mother sadly, 'mums's right. I loved my brother to bits but he would have been out of his depth running this place. He was brilliant with the guests though, the perfect host. He loved being here in the bar, holding court.' She looked around sadly as though briefly lost in her memories.

The silence was broken by Hannah leaving to take the money through to the safe. Caroline stood up, 'I think I'm going to call it a night, I'm sorry, it's just too...' She shook her head and Molly could see a lone tear trickle down her face.

'It's alright mum, no one expects more of you. Come on, I'll walk you back.'

As she passed Sherlock, supporting her mother, he gripped her arm causing her to stop and look at him in surprise, 'stay with her. Do you understand? Don't leave her until at least eleven OK?' She nodded her head once though she still seemed confused.

After they'd gone Sherlock and Molly retired to a corner seat a bit further away from the others. 'What was that all about?' Molly whispered.

'It seems my deductions were correct and now the trap is set. We'll just have to see if it catches our murderer. I hope you're not feeling tired because it might be a long night Molly.'

Molly smiled, 'why do I not feel that you're referring to a night of passion when you say that?'

He chuckled lightly and slid his hand up her leg til it rested on her upper thigh, 'if only! But let's see what we can manage once we're out of this hellhole.'

 **Back to reality and the case then. Setting a trap in an isolated, snowed in location. One of Sherlock's better plans...or not? Back Friday.**


	14. Chapter 14

**I can't believe we're into December already. I'll need to work out when I'm going to start posting my Christmas fic, hope you're all feeling festive. And of course that means it's less than a month to go until the Sherlock special...whoop, whoop.**

 **Chapter 14**

As the various groups said their good nights Sherlock went to check on the mobile phone that Molly had left plugged into charge in reception. He managed once again to get through to Lestrade who had just arrived in Manchester. He was exploring different ways in which they might be able to get up to Saddleworth given the conditions but confirmed nothing would be possible until at least lunchtime the following day.

'Conditions are looking better tomorrow, if necessary we can use a helicopter but I'd rather see if we can clear the road, that way we can get officers and forensics up to you. Just, don't do anything stupid, Sherlock, do you hear?'

'Yes, yes I think we can just about manage Graham. Just get here as soon as you can, it's getting tedious being cooped up with these idiots.'

'Charming,' said Molly at the side of him, rolling her eyes but he just ignored her, firing off more instructions to the increasingly irritated Lestrade.

Once they were done Molly was surprised when Sherlock turned to the staff quarters over the guest wing.

Sherlock just put a finger up against his lips to indicate she should keep quiet.

They made their way up the stairs and went quickly into Alf's cold and empty bedroom. Sherlock indicated to Molly to sit on the floor near the door before he turned out the small torch he'd used to light their way, positioning himself so he could open the door and look out into the corridor if he needed to.

It didn't take a rocket scientist to work out they were on some kind of stakeout. Molly was initially excited by the prospect but as the minutes ticked on and nothing happened she realised the reality was so much worse than the fantasy. 'How long will this take?' She whispered. His response was equally muted, 'at least another hour, we came up early before the others came to bed.'

Molly let her head drop back on the wall feeling the boredom. She desperately needed something to help her pass the time. A thought crept into her mind and she smirked to herself in the dark, but once the idea had embedded itself she couldn't rid herself of it.

It was a completely wicked idea but there was still movement outside and she was hideously bored so she finally decided why not!

She felt her way over, in the dark, until she touched Sherlock's leg. He jumped slightly at her touch but didn't say anything. She slid her hand slowly up his trouser leg until she reached the top of his thigh.

'Molly!' He hissed as a warning but she ignored him. Instead she undid the button and zipper of his trousers. At one point he tried to move her hands off but she slapped him away and then shushed his muted protests with a slow kiss which left them both breathing heavily.

This time when she slid her hands down his chest and to his trousers there was no protest. By the time she released him from his trousers he was almost fully hard, anticipation of what she were about to do feeding his arousal.

She gripped him feeling his erection responding to her touch pulsing in reaction to her hand tightening. Slowly she moved her hand up and down, stroking him, hearing a hiss from Sherlock and movement as he slid lower down the wall.

She leant over and blew air on him hearing a slight moan from him as she did. He even lifted his hips slightly trying to meet her part way. She licked her lips and then slowly slid her mouth over him. She could feel his groan all the way along his erection and she hummed in response loving how she was able to turn him on.

The complete darkness and the need for silence seemed to enhance all Molly's other senses. She could smell Sherlock's arousal, the tang of the pre-cum sharp in her mouth. He seemed big and she struggled to take all of him, using her hand on the rest as she slid the length of him in and out of her mouth.

He had succumbed to her ministrations and she felt him thread his hands in her hair his shortened nails scraping deliciously over her scalp. She could feel his hips rocking into her and knew it wouldn't be long until he came. She reached down with one hand and used it to roll his balls between her fingers hearing him gasp and start to judder, his hands gripping her hair tighter. He thrust up into her three more times and he whispered her name as he tried to pull her up and off him. She heard a last, 'oh God' and then she was swallowing his come as it pumped into her mouth.

She wasn't a big fan of swallowing, the taste had never been anything she had got used to but she wanted him, wanted to take it, plus given their circumstances there was not much other option.

She sat back on her heels and listened to Sherlock doing up his trousers as she wiped her mouth smiling to herself at her audaciousness. She felt his hand find hers in the dark and he pulled her back to him; his other hand snaking up her side until he was cupping her face. Then she felt his lips on hers, not just kissing her but actively tasting himself, his tongue exploring her mouth.

There was a danger that they would have forgotten about the stake out altogether and lost themselves in each other but then they heard Hannah and Marcus come up stairs together; parting to go to their respective rooms, there was obviously no reconciliation there. Molly leant into Sherlock's side, his arm around her shoulder. She could hear toilets flushing, a shower going for a short while. Then Theresa left Caroline's room calling out a final good night to her.

After another twenty minutes silence descended completely and utterly. Even the weather was still for once, with no wind or rain. Molly wasn't sure how long they had sat there but she must have drifted off because she awoke as Sherlock left her side to open the door to the hallway and creep out.

She rubbed at her eyes and tried to ignore the ache in her back from sitting slumped in a cold room for an hour. By the time she followed him out he was at Caroline's door, his ear pressed against it as he tried to pick the lock in the dark.

Molly was right behind him as he opened the door and made his way in; this time not worrying about how much noise he made.

'Hannah, stop right there, don't make it worse for yourself. I know it was you who killed Alf but killing Caroline won't make things better.'

Molly was confused as to what was going on. The only light was coming from Sherlock's tiny torch and one presumably held by Hannah. Molly had never even considered her being the murderer. There was a high pitched shout as Sherlock presumably lunged for her to restrain her but he must have missed or not got a proper grip because the next thing Molly knew was when Hannah ran into her.

She automatically grabbed hold of her arms hearing her shouting at her to let her go as she tried to tug out of her grip. She felt a thump to her stomach, enough for her to let go and then Sherlock was pushing past her to go after Hannah.

The noise had woken Caroline who was calling out asking what was going on. She went over to her holding her side where she had been hit wondering whether a drink had been spilt on her as she seemed to be wet.

She could hear a match being struck and then there was light as Caroline lit the two candles sitting on her bedside cabinet. She looked up at Molly with confusion and fear in equal measure on her face, 'what on earth is going on?'

Molly held out her hand to reassure her only to hear Caroline scream, seeing the shock on her face as it focused on Molly's hand. Molly frowned wondering why Caroline was reacting so strangely, then she looked down at her own hand. It seemed to be almost black, what was that? She brought it up to her face and comprehension dawned that it was blood, her blood. It was only then that she looked down at her side to see a patch of blood spreading across and down her shirt.

'Oh!' She staggered slightly feeling giddy. She tried to find a handhold but missed and knew she was falling. She worried firstly that when she hit the floor it was going to hurt and secondly that Sherlock would be sad if she died.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

The noise that Sherlock and Hannah had both made was waking everyone up. As he ran down the corridor behind her he could hear shouts and movement from both Marcus and Theresa. He wondered briefly why Hannah was bothering to run, there was nowhere to run too. She would realise that soon enough, he just needed to make sure she didn't hurt anyone first.

He caught up with her in the bar swinging her round and this time disarming her easily, throwing the knife onto the floor and kicking it away from her. She struggled for a moment cursing and hitting him but she soon realised the game was up and slumped in his arms.

By this time Marcus had joined him, crying out in shock when he saw Sherlock restraining his ex-girlfriend.

'Get a grip Marcus, she killed Alf and she would have killed your grandmother. You're lucky it wasn't you. Now, think, where can we safely put her until the police can get here?'

Marcus ran his hand through his hair, making it stick up in places. He looked around himself before turning back, 'I...um...the office. There's just one door, no windows you can exit through. We could put her there for now until we think of somewhere better.'

'Alright, get the key. We'll probably need to guard the door, make sure she doesn't get out or harm herself. We can wake some of the others and set up a rota.'

It didn't take them long to get Hannah installed in the room sullenly refusing to even look at Marcus let alone answer any of his questions. They removed anything which looked like it could be used as a tool or a weapon and then locked the door behind them.

As they did Theresa came out of the staff quarters and hurried over to them.

'Is there a phone working? We need help, an ambulance, something...'

Sherlock looked at her sharply an uneasy feeling suddenly settling in his gut, 'is it Caroline? Is she hurt?'

He knew the answer before she even gave it, he could tell by her expression, the sympathetic look that she was giving him.

He was pulling the phone out of his back pocket and running for the stairs even as he heard Theresa behind him confirm his worst fears, 'it's Molly...I think she's been stabbed.'

 **So not such a good idea of Sherlock's then! Molly's been stabbed and they're in the middle of nowhere. Will she survive? Tune in on Sunday to find out.**


	15. Chapter 15

**Sorry this ones a short chapter, they just seem to sometimes end up that way. Anyway I know you're all looking forward to seeing whether Molly is alright. But come on, you know me by now, it was never that much of a cliff hanger.**

 **As always thank you for your reviews. It always means so much to receive one - writing is an isolated world otherwise and you never quite know if people are enjoying it.**

 **Back in the real world and still the countdown progresses to the Special.**

 **Chapter 15**

Molly's life seemed to be made up of a series of moments, moments that she couldn't quite seem to piece together.

She could see Sherlock's face. He looked frightened; she'd never seen him looking frightened like that before. He was saying something to her but she couldn't hear anything. She wanted to ask him what he was so scared of.

It was the cold which she recalled next. An icy bitter cold on her face. She wanted to put her hands up to protect herself but she couldn't move them. There was lots of noise, a beating sound and lights bouncing around making her feel slightly sick. She could feel his hand in hers though and it calmed her.

The next time she was conscious there was a familiar smell, one she was used to experiencing almost every day. Was she home? No, it smelt like Barts. She opened her eyes for a moment and saw him sleeping, his head lying on the bed next to her hand. She tried to lift it to stroke his hair but it all just seemed like too much effort.

Finally, she came too properly. The realisation hitting her this time that she was in a hospital. She looked around for Sherlock but there was no sign of him, just Greg Lestrade stood with his back to her looking out of the window at a turbulent grey sky.

She tried to say his name but it came out as more of a croak; it was enough though to have him looking round.

He came over smiling at her and helped her drink some water.

'Bloody Hell Molly, you gave us a bit of a fright there. Do you remember what happened to you?'

He sat down next to her holding her hand. Molly's face scrunched up as she tried to think, 'I was with Sherlock, we erm...oh Hannah, she punched me. At least, I thought she'd punched me...but there was blood, so much blood.'

Greg looked at her sympathetically, 'you were stabbed Molly and yes you did lose a lot of blood, we were quite worried for a while there. If Sherlock hadn't moved heaven and earth to get you to a hospital...well, I've never seen him quite that bad before and that's saying something.'

He carried on, 'I don't know what he said to his brother but they ended up sending a military helicopter to airlift you out and bring you here.'

'Where's here...and where is Sherlock?'

Molly tried to sit up but the dull ache in her side turned into a sharp spike of pain and she fell back with a gasp.

'Stop trying to move Molly, you're a doctor you know the drill. You're in Manchester Royal Infirmary. You should be well enough to be moved to London tomorrow, I believe Mycroft is arranging the transfer.'

'And Sherlock?' Molly prompted again.

Greg looked a bit uneasy, shifting slightly in his chair, 'he was here Molly. He didn't leave your side until he knew you were going to be OK. I even caught him sleeping with his head at your side, holding your hand would you believe it. But you know what he's like...anyway he's gone back to London. I'm sure he'll catch up with you when you're transferred.'

Molly stomach twisted. He'd left her, how could he have just left her? She turned her head to one side so Greg couldn't see the tears that had come into her eyes. 'I...um...I think I just need some sleep...do you mind...'

She heard him push the chair back as he stood 'Oh, no. Course not Molly. I'm just glad you're OK. I'll pop in and see you later, let you know more about the travel plans. Get some rest.'

'I will thanks Greg.'

She kept her head turned until she heard the door to her room close. She bit her lip to stop the tears. Was that it? Had she read more into her time with Sherlock than he had? She'd thought they were starting something but now...now he'd gone, without a word and she just didn't know.

MHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMH

She was finally transferred by private ambulance to Barts. It seems that Mycroft Holmes was covering all the costs, according to Greg who travelled with her. Molly knew that ultimately it was because of Sherlock but it didn't in anyway make up for the fact that he wasn't here with her.

Once she was settled in at Barts John came in to see her. He updated her on her injury a bit further. Thankfully no major organs had been damaged.

'They're going to keep you in another 48 hours for observation, make sure there is no internal bleeding or other side effects of your transfer. You should be able to go home after that, or Mary says you can come and stay with us for a couple of days rather than go back to an empty flat. You could really do with someone keeping an eye on you and helping you out.'

Molly thanked him and promised to think about it.

'Have you...erm...seen Sherlock since he got back?'

John frowned and leant back on the plastic hospital chair, 'no, he's gone into some sort of sulk. Absolutely refusing to see anybody, even Mrs Hudson. She says she hasn't seen him this moody in years.'

John hesitated and then continued, 'I know he was worried about you. I've spoken to both Greg and Mycroft...Molly...can I ask you something?'

'Yes, of course.'

'It's just something Mycroft said, he might have got it wrong but...did something happen, between you and Sherlock... when you were away?'

Molly looked down at the sheet that she was twisting in her hands. She wasn't quite sure how much she should tell John but it wasn't in her nature to lie. She cleared her throat, 'um...yes...we, that is we slept together.'

'Slept?'

She glanced up at John's confused face and couldn't help smiling, 'yes John as in euphemism. We had sex. I thought maybe it meant something...but it looks like I was wrong. It was just a fling, a one off thing to him.' She looked back down listening to the sound of John breathing as he thought through what she had said.

He slapped his hands on his knees, 'right...OK then. Well, don't forget our offer. I'll call in again tomorrow to see what you want to do. Take care Molly.'

He hesitated but then bent forward and kissed her forehead.

'Goodbye John and thank you.'

After John had left Molly closed her eyes, letting her head fall back onto the pillows. As she had done every minute of the last couple of days her mind went over and over her interactions with Sherlock over the last few days. She had thought they had had something, that they were starting something. How had she got it so wrong? It must have been just physical for him, nothing more, he had never promised her anything or said anything concrete.

'Face it Molly, you were a bloody idiot. He's played you again.' She was determined not to cry over him anymore but it didn't stop the tears leaking out anyway and trickling down her face.

JWJWJWJWJWJWJWJW

John meanwhile was on a mission. Molly had finally confirmed his suspicions after the conversation with Mycroft. He thought back to the previous day when he had received the call from Mycroft just after he'd woken.

'Doctor Watson, I need to you to make sure everything at Barts will be ready for Doctor Hooper's arrival. The ambulance should arrive between 3.00 and 3.30pm. I've booked a private suite for her on my brother's instructions.'

John heard a slight sniff from Mycroft at that last bit and he suspected that he was as frustrated with his brother as John was.

'So you've heard from Sherlock then coz he's not bloody answering his phone when I call.'

'My brother is feeling somewhat...ah...vulnerable at the moment. He doesn't handle sentiment well as you yourself know. I'm sure given time he will do the right thing.'

'Right thing? What does that even mean? And why doesn't he just meet Molly himself?'

'I'm sure you will be a better friend to Doctor Hooper at the moment and that is what she'll need as she recovers. Anyhow, I can't spend my time gossiping Doctor Watson. Believe it or not I actually have more important things to do than sort out my brother's love life. Good day.'

Mycroft hung up before John could say more but he still found himself saying 'love life?' to the now silent phone.

This time when he got to Baker Street he refused to take no for an answer from the beleaguered Mrs Hudson. As it was John she caved and let him in just waving her hand upstairs.

'I don't know what's come over him John but maybe you're right and you can get through to him. He hasn't eaten, hasn't slept and as far as I can smell he hasn't showered since he got back two days ago. He won't say anything other than 'Go Away', he's always been rude and difficult, you know what he's like John, but this...' She waved her hand towards the stairs, 'well, something's wrong.'

John looked at the stairs before him, and after saying goodbye to Mrs Hudson, he took a deep breath and moved forward.

 **Oh oh so Sherlock is being a bit of a fucktard as they say colloquially round here. Here's hoping that John can snap him out if it and make him see sense before it's too late.**


	16. Chapter 16

**Back again, we're into the final couple of chapters now, which is good as I'm starting to panic about getting my Christmas fic finished and up before I miss the deadline. Chapter one of that has now been posted and is called All Molly Wants for Christmas!**

 **Chapter 16**

John took the stairs two at a time and as he entered the front room he heard Sherlock's bedroom door slam shut.

'Fine, right.' He squared his shoulders and made his way through to the kitchen sticking the kettle on as he went.

'You know Sherlock, Mary's fine with the baby at the moment, thanks for asking. She doesn't need me at home. Looks like I've got plenty of time to just hang out here.'

There was no response so John hung his coat on the back of a kitchen chair and proceeded to make his cuppa. He even shouted down the stairs asking Mrs Hudson if she had any biscuits.

Finally he settled down in Sherlock's chair to watch some drivel on the telly. It was actually quite pleasant to be sat relaxing after running around after Mary and the baby for the last few weeks.

He must have drifted off to sleep because the next thing he knew he was waking up to a dishevelled Sherlock sitting down opposite him. He sat himself upright, rubbing a hand over his face to try and wake himself up. A quick glance at his watch told him he must have been asleep for just over an hour.

'Well, I'd say you're looking good but it would be a lie. What the hell is going on Sherlock? This was meant to be a simple case, Christ I was surprised you'd even taken it. What happened?'

Sherlock told him all about their time at the Retreat. He admitted that he'd recognised Hannah as the thief quite early on but them being snowed in and the murder just escalated things.

'It all came down to history in the end John, an overbearing mother and a weak son. Alf got Hannah's mother pregnant. In his defence I don't think he ever knew but he did allow his parents to send him to America thus leaving his girlfriend without so much as a backwards glance. Caroline dealt with the girl, paying her off and telling her Alf knew but didn't care. She always assumed the girl had had an abortion.'

'Hannah had heard things from her mother and suspected a connection to The Retreat which was why she struck up a relationship with Marcus. She's quite the psychopath, she never cared for Marcus which was why she didn't care when she heard he had been cheating on her.'

'She stole just for the hell of it but when she searched Alf's room for valuables she came across old photos and one of those cheap necklaces that you buy as a couple and each holds one half. Her mother obviously held the other half and she suddenly realised Alf was her father and when he caught her there she turned on him stabbing him in anger and revenge for the abandonment.'

John was happy to let Sherlock tell him the tale, his deductions, almost lulling him into a false sense of security. 'What about the other guy? The one lost on the moors, Greg says they haven't been able to find him yet; the weather is still too bad. He might not be found until there's a thaw.'

Sherlock steepled his hands and smiled, 'ah yes, Rob the stupid drug addict. Moll...that is it was suggested maybe someone could have seen something and that someone was Rob. He was looking anywhere and everywhere for some drugs and he saw Hannah leaving Alf's room and put two and two together. As he got more desperate he approached Hannah demanding she help him. She's confirmed she told him there was a doctor who could help him a quarter of a mile East of the hotel; a lie, of course. He was so far gone he believed her so pfft,' he clicked his fingers, 'another problem gone.'

'I started to suspect her past and set up a conversation at the bar. Caroline confirmed everything just as I had deduced she would. Once she heard Caroline's part it was inevitable that she would go after her and with painful predictability she did. What I didn't predict was what happened to...Doctor Hooper...I always miss something.'

John saw his opening and took it. 'I've spoken to Molly and she's admitted the two of you slept together.'

He saw Sherlock's face hardening, could almost see the shutters coming down behind his eyes.

'Has she now? How very open of her?'

'So, you used her?'

Sherlock looked up sharply, 'no, I didn't use her.'

'So what then, you have feelings for her? If you do, why haven't you been to see her?' He waved his hand at Sherlock, 'why the homeless look coz it doesn't suit you?'

Sherlock huffed and didn't answer just narrowed his eyes as he looked at the carpet.

'Talk to me, you never know maybe I can help. Do you like Molly?'

'Well of course I like her; she's my pathologist and...my friend. I trust her.'

'Good, good well that's a start. Do you have feelings for her beyond friendship?'

'That's irrelevant John. What matters is keeping Molly safe!'

John frowned, 'how is she not safe?'

'She's not safe when she's with me John. I would have thought that would be obvious even to a moron like you.'

John fisted his hands but refused to take the bait. He knew Sherlock when he was fishing for a fight.

'Well maybe I am just being stupid but I think you're going to have to spell it out for me.'

Sherlock stood up and moved around the flat picking up his penknife and playing with it as he talked, 'look at me John. I'm hardly a catch. I am not good for her and never will be. Look at what just happened, one case and she ends up stabbed. She nearly died and if she had it would have been all my fault.'

John leant forward, his elbows on his knees as he looked at his friend who was so clearly not coping with the decision he'd made.

'Nobody is ever 100% safe Sherlock but you are more capable than most of keeping your friends and family safe. Look at what you've done for me; for Mary. And anyway, you cannot make that decision for her, it's not fair. Molly should have a say in this.'

'Why? We both know she'll be influenced by sentiment. No, it's better if I take it. She'll get over it soon enough.'

'You think! Well now it's my turn to tell you that you're the idiot. Molly has been infatuated with you for years, God knows why because you... are a berk. She is not going anywhere anytime soon. And if she does, would you be able to live with that, with knowing you could have been with her but you weren't man enough?'

Sherlock turned on him, 'not man enough?'

John stood facing him down his voice increasing in volume as he went on, 'yes, you heard me. You talk about Alf being weak and running away but how are you any different? You're not, you're just the same. You aren't worried about Molly's safety, no you're scared of your own feelings and you're using her injury as an excuse. You forget, I know you Sherlock. I know this image you paint of yourself as uncaring is a facade. So decision time. Do you run scared or do you face up to your feelings and make things right before you lose her for good?'

He turned and left before Sherlock could answer. He'd come to say what he wanted to say, what he needed to say and now it was up to Sherlock. He only hoped his friend would make the right choice.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

Sherlock watched his friend leave; a frown settling on his face as he did. He had been so sure in his own mind that he was doing the right thing. But was it possible John was right? Was he scared?

He threw himself down on the settee pulling his dressing gown around him for warmth as he thought back to that night. When he'd heard that Molly had been injured, he'd felt sick, physically sick. The moments it took him to get to her had felt like the longest in his life; it had been as though he were wading through treacle.

He'd burst into Caroline's room to see Molly, white as a sheet, lying unconscious on the floor with Caroline kneeling over her pressing a towel to her side trying to stem the bleeding. She'd looked up at him with scared eyes looking every one of her sixty four years.

He was already connected to Greg barking instructions at him. When he'd realised Greg would take too long he'd hung up without comment and dialled Mycroft. It was only when he had exacted a promise from Mycroft that he felt able to kneel at Molly's side and take her hand.

She'd seemed so small and vulnerable. Her hand was tiny in comparison to his. He cupped her cheek with his other hand and called her name. Her eyes had flickered open for a moment and he'd tried to smile to reassure her before she faded back into unconsciousness.

Everything else had seemed like a blur. Within twenty minutes they'd heard the beating of the helicopter rotors. Marcus had roused Andy and Guy but the ruckus and then the helicopter had meant that everyone was awake and watching the proceedings as Molly was carried out to be taken to Hospital. Sherlock had been with her every step of the way, holding her hand.

It had only been once her recovery had been assured that he had started to blame himself. It was all his worst fears about himself confirmed. He knew it was too dangerous for him to be in a relationship, it put whoever he was with front and central for attacks. How could he do that to Molly? To himself? If he ever lost her it would kill him. Far better for her to be safe and apart from him that at risk with him, wasn't it?

He came out of his musings and looked at the ceiling of his Baker St home. Just for a short time he'd considered it being Molly's home too. He felt dampness on his cheeks and was almost surprised when he put his hand up to find tears. He felt no desire to stem them though. His brother was right, caring is not an advantage, he should have remembered that.

 **Sorry, dammit, he's still being awkward and so stubborn. I'll update soon, let me have your thoughts...please, pretty please**


	17. Chapter 17

**So John couldn't quite manage it so who can possibly change Sherlock's mind now?**

 **Chapter 17**

Molly didn't take John up on his offer in the end. She just wanted to retreat into the sanctuary of her own home and lick her wounds. Every day she'd still held out a hope that Sherlock would come to her and every day she had been disappointed all over again.

On the day of Molly's release from hospital Mary had left John looking after baby Elizabeth in order to help get Molly settled at home. She'd filled the fridge and freezer with supplies and turned the heating on so by the time they'd arrived the flat was warm and welcoming.

She made Molly lie down on the settee whilst she fussed around, covering her with a throw and putting the kettle on.

'What about Toby? He's still with Mrs Hudson...I need to get him...'

'Never mind about Toby, he's fine. John checked on him when he went to visit Sherlock.' Mary placed a mug of tea by Molly's side which she gratefully received. The tea in the hospital had been over stewed and nasty.

Molly tried to be nonchalant, 'John went to see Sherlock. How was he?'

Mary wished she could have better news for Molly, it was so obvious that she was holding onto some desperate hope. Sherlock really, really didn't deserve her. If Mary had had her way she would have slapped him across the face to try to get him to wake up and realise how stupid he was.

'He was...oh Molly, I don't know what to say. He's being an idiot. He thinks he's protecting you. John tried to make him see sense but you know how stubborn he can be.'

Molly sat holding her mug, biting her lip with a confused expression on her face. This was the first she'd heard that Sherlock might not just have used her and walked away. Was it possible that there was more to this?

'Are you sure that's what he said Mary? I mean he never actually said he had any feelings for me, he never promised me anything, so he doesn't owe me anything. I think maybe I just read more into it because I wanted to.'

Mary wanted more than anything to reassure her but she didn't want to raise her hopes. She had no idea how much Sherlock actually felt for Molly and whether he would ever act on it. Maybe it was better that Molly thought he didn't care, that it had just been a physical thing. What good would it do for her to think that Sherlock loved her but was just denying his feelings for her?

They chatted for another ten minutes or so but Molly made the excuse that she felt tired and Mary stood, promising that either her or John would check in with her each day to make sure she was OK.

After she'd gone Molly finally gave into the sorrow she'd been trying to repress for the last week.

MHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMH

Within a few days of being back at home Molly was starting to feel better. The wound was healing well and she had reached the point that she wasn't needing the painkillers any more. John had checked on her stitches just that morning and everything was progressing nicely. She'd even been outside the day before. Just a short stroll down to the local shop to pick up some milk. She'd been tired by the end of the trip but it had done her good to get some fresh air.

John had been gone about twenty minutes when the doorbell rang so Molly was curious as to who it could be.

She opened the door to find Mycroft Holmes leaning on his ubiquitous umbrella.

He inclined his head when she answered the door, 'Doctor Hooper. I do hope you'll forgive the intrusion but I would like a few moments of your time if I may?'

Molly tried to cover her confusion at his appearance, 'Oh yes, of course, come in.'

She followed him through to her front room which suddenly seemed very shabby given the appearance of Mycroft wearing what was no doubt a suit which had cost upwards of two thousand pounds.

'Can I get you a tea or coffee? I have some lemon drizzle cake that Mary made for me, would you like a slice?'

She saw what looked like a slight nervous tic as she mentioned the cake, 'well maybe just one small slice and tea thank you.'

Molly busied herself in the kitchen mouthing an 'oh my god' to herself as she did. What the hell does Sherlock's brother want with me? She had seen him at the morgue, of course, but she didn't really know him.

She carried a tray through and as she exited the kitchen he came forward and took it from her, 'please... let me.' She relented and went to sit on the settee whilst he set the tray down on the coffee table and sat across from her in the chair.

Molly poured the tea and waited for him to start.

'I expect you're wondering why I am here Doctor Hooper.'

'Please, call me Molly and I expect it is something to do with your brother?'

'Yes Molly, you're quite right it is. I went to see him earlier and he was worse than I feared.' He held up his hand at Molly's gasp, 'no don't worry, there is nothing physically wrong with him, though it wouldn't harm him to eat and sleep a bit more than he has been doing. No, I am talking about his emotional wellbeing.'

Molly smiled ruefully, 'I didn't think the Holmes brothers had emotions.'

Mycroft smiled back, 'touché Miss Hooper. But that is exactly why I am here. I'd like to tell you a bit more about my brother if I may.' Molly nodded at him to continue.

'My brother is quite a few years younger than myself and when he was a small child he was always so sensitive. He took every knock and childhood tussle so personally. He was ruled by his emotions, often moody or upset.

'It didn't help that my father's job in the foreign office meant that we travelled frequently; often only living in the same place for six to twelve months. Sherlock struggled to make friends and when he did we moved, he lost them and had to start all over again. It was tearing him apart.

'I was his older brother, he looked to me for advice and I tried to help him. I told him that emotions and caring were not an advantage. That his life would be easier if he learnt to rely on himself and not on other people. He was very impressionable and eager to prove himself to me. He took to heart what I said and when he eventually went away to boarding school it was a philosophy that served him well.

'However, now I am not so sure it was a good thing. He didn't just listen to what I said he has built his whole life around it, and now...well, now it's killing him.

'My brother has feelings for you Molly. Strong feelings. I know you return them and I also think you would be good for him. He has it in his head however that he is not good for you, that you would be safer and better off without him.'

Molly frowned finally speaking 'I'm not sure I agree with you that he has feelings for me. Beyond some physical attraction he has never declared any feelings for me and anyway if that's his decision what would you have me do about it?'

Mycroft leant forward, wiping his mouth of the last crumbs from the cake, 'don't give up on him...please. He just needs to realise he is wrong, you must find a way to get through to him.'

He stood up quickly, surprising Molly, 'well, I mustn't take up any more of your time than necessary. It is good to see that you are recovering well from your injury.'

He made his way towards the door picking up his umbrella as he went. As he opened the door Molly put a hand on his arm to stop him. He looked down at her hand in shock before looking up at her.

'I...I just wanted to say thank you. I know it was you who arranged for the airlift and if you hadn't...well, I would very likely not be here. So thank you.'

'That, Doctor Hooper, was all down to my brother's...erm...persuasive skills, but you are very welcome. Good day.'

Molly closed the door behind him and sighed, frowning to herself. That was the second time she had been told that Sherlock was staying away to try and protect her. Maybe it was about time she confronted him and found out the truth for herself.

It was also about time she got Toby back; so that meant she could kill two Baker St. birds with one stone. She pushed off from the door and went to get changed. If she were going to see Sherlock she needed to look and feel good about herself, this could get rough.

 **Maybe Molly can knock some sense into him and reunite herself with Toby to boot. I'll be back soon with the penultimate chapter.**


	18. Chapter 18

**So between this story and my Christmas one I'm losing track of which story and which chapter I'm supposed to be updating. I'm also reluctantly posting in a Saturday which always seems to sound a death knell as far as reviews are concerned for some reason.**

 **But all that aside here we are on the last but one chapter. I loved writing this story and I love that you guys have loved it. Is that enough love all round? Anyway, enough of me, on with the story.**

 **Chapter 18**

Sherlock was having doubts. He'd tried to stay strong, tried to tell himself that he was doing the right thing for the right reasons but fundamentally, deep down, he missed her. God how he missed her.

It had become physical, an ache deep in his gut. It was there from the moment he awoke until he fell into a fitful sleep normally on the settee or even curled up in his chair. He avoided the bed. If he slept on the bed he dreamed and his dreams were haunted by her. They were so vivid; she was there with him, kissing him, her hands sliding over him, her breath in his ear calling his name. He would either awaken at the moment he came or he would be left hard and frustrated.

He didn't just miss her in a physical, sexual sense. He missed just seeing her, chatting with her. Spending those days with her trapped in the hotel had been perfect and he hated losing it. Having someone there to talk to; to just 'be' with.

He couldn't concentrate on anything. Lestrade had called him twice about cases, no doubt at the prompting of his brother, but they just seemed dull. He couldn't seem to muster enthusiasm for anything.

Every other day Mrs Hudson had marched in and sat him down forcing him to eat some food. The first time, he'd tried to throw her out but she'd threatened him with the ultimate punishment, not eviction, not a phone call to his brother or a hospital. No, she threatened him with a phone call to his mother!

John had called round each day with an update about Molly, Sherlock knew he was doing it on purpose to wear him down and the trouble was it was working.

The last straw had been a visit from his brother just this morning. It had been a difficult conversation, mainly because Sherlock refused to speak but he'd been shocked by his brother's admission and his apology for telling Sherlock to keep himself closed off from emotions.

'I never considered the possibility Sherlock that there would be a girl out there so well suited to you both professionally, though I hesitate to class your 'job', he air quoted with his fingers, 'in that light, and emotionally. But I have to say, I think Doctor Hooper might actually be good for you, plus it would take the pressure off me with mother as regards grandchildren.'

Typical that Mycroft would bring everything back to himself but still it was a huge turnaround on his part.

In the end it was too much, Sherlock showered and dressed before grabbing his scarf and Belstaff and leaving Baker St for Molly's apartment.

As he went out into the street he breathed in the sharp, cold air and felt as though he could breathe for the first time in days. He'd changed his mind and it just felt right, he felt lighter, happier even. He just hoped she would find it within her to forgive him.

MHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMH

Molly treated herself to a cab over to Baker St. She was feeling a lot better but taking public transport would wear her out too much.

She felt a certain amount of trepidation though as she made her way to that familiar black door. She had no idea how she would be received by Sherlock or even what she would say to him. She just knew she had to try.

Mrs Hudson opened the door and ushered her in with a hug and a kiss to her cheek, 'Molly, dear, are you sure you should be out and about? John told me all about what happened to you and I was so glad to hear you were out of hospital. Why don't you come through and have a cup of tea and you can tell me all about it?'

'I'd love to but..erm.. Maybe I could have a quick word with Sherlock first?'

'Oh love, you've just missed him. I heard him go out about twenty minutes ago, I don't know where he went. I'm just glad he's up and about he's been in such a state recently, I've no idea what's got into him.'

She bustled Molly through to her kitchen and set about making her a drink, offering her various cakes and biscuits. Molly spied Toby's empty basket in the corner, 'how's Toby been? I hope he wasn't too much bother. I'm happy to take him home with me now that I'm well again.'

Mrs Hudson looked around smiling, 'he's been fine, no bother at all, even less over the last week. He's taken to living upstairs with Sherlock most of the time. You'll probably find him curled up asleep on his bed. I think he's been keeping Sherlock company. Cats can sense when people are out of sorts can't they, I think he went where he was needed most.'

Molly smiled at the thought of Toby and Sherlock together, it seemed very domesticated. Not a word she'd ever associated with Sherlock before.

She sat and drank her cup of tea with Mrs Hudson telling her some of the details of her trip away with Sherlock. She didn't mention any of the personal stuff and Mrs Hudson gasped and put her hand over her heart when Molly told her about the moment she was stabbed.

It was about then that there was the sound of the front door slamming shut, 'that'll be our Sherlock; I can always tell when it's him.'

Molly wondered for a moment who else it was likely to be but she followed Mrs Hudson out into the corridor where she was talking to Sherlock who was half way up the stairs. He sounded angry and Molly's nerves started up again, her stomach flipping over at the thought of seeing him again.

'Not now Mrs Hudson! I don't care who it is just tell them to go away.'

'But Sherlock...'

'No buts just...Molly!' He sounded as shocked as he looked when he caught a glimpse of her coming out of the downstairs apartment. They just stood there staring at each other barely hearing what was being said, 'well if you'd let me get a word in edge ways I would have told you it was Molly. You're always rushing about and never listening...'

'Would you like to come up?' He spoke directly to Molly completely blanking Mrs Hudson.

Molly was still caught in his gaze; she nodded before turning back to Martha and thanking her for the tea and cake and for looking after Toby. 'It was my pleasure dear, anytime. Take care now.'

Then Molly was following Sherlock up the stairs to his flat. He went in and took his coat and scarf off, hanging them up. 'Can I take your coat?' He offered.

She nodded her head again and divested herself of her jacket, only wincing slightly as she pulled at the stitches in her side. Sherlock had obviously noticed though because she saw his expression twist into sadness.

'It's OK...I mean...I'm OK. You don't have to worry.'

He gestured to John's chair and she sat down watching as he sat opposite. There seemed to be a chasm between them and Molly had no idea what to say to bridge the gap.

He cleared his throat and she looked up at him, 'how have you been Molly? John's been giving me updates but he never gives enough detail. I take it Mycroft arranged everything to your satisfaction.'

Molly's heart sank a little, he sounded like he was talking about a business transaction. 'Yes, it was all fine. I'm fine...Sherlock...why did you leave me? I thought...' She took a deep breath and forced herself to go on no matter how humiliating it might be. 'I thought we had something...that maybe you felt something for me, more than just sex. Was I wrong?'

Sherlock suddenly seemed intent on looking at everything but her.

'I need to apologise to you Molly...'

Molly could feel her blood running cold, she squeezed her eyes shut knowing it was going to be bad.

'I'm sorry for being weak, for not being the sort of man you deserve. I'm sorry for all the hurt I have caused you in the past and no doubt in the future to come. It's my fault that you were in that hotel at all and it's my fault that you got hurt...'

Molly cut him off still trying and hoping, 'but it was just a case, it wasn't your fault I was hurt, I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. It could just as easily have been John if he'd been able to go instead.'

Sherlock finally looked her in the eye and gave her a sad kind of half smile, 'ah but that's where you're wrong Molly. You see I would never have taken John there. The only reason I took that job was because of you and because of my own pride.'

Now Molly was thoroughly confused, 'but...I don't understand...the case, the thefts...'

He shrugged, 'they were just an excuse that was all. I wanted to get you away from London, away from our normal lives. I thought it would help me to...move our relationship to the next level. This job came up, not even a four really and I saw the potential, knew John couldn't come so I would be able to ask you.'

Molly held her hand up, 'wait, hang on, what do you mean move our relationship to the next level?'

He rolled his eyes as her slow uptake, 'I had decided I wanted to be with you...to be...' He huffed and almost gritted his teeth, 'your boyfriend...though I'm sure there must be a better way to describe that...your lover or partner, there better? But I didn't want to risk you humiliating me if I asked you out, so I hatched a plan instead.'

Molly felt as though all the air had been sucked out of the room momentarily, she felt dizzy, as though she couldn't breathe. 'So...you like me?'

Sherlock, chuckled, 'yes Molly I like you. I would have thought that were obvious by now. I just wish I could have been stronger for you. I tried, I really did. I tried to walk away, to let you live a safer life; a more normal life with someone better. But these past few days have nearly killed me Molly.'

Suddenly he was on his knees in front of her chair holding onto her hands with his, 'so can you forgive me Molly for still needing you? I find I can't live without you, but I promise I will do everything in my power to keep you safe in future.'

Molly felt overwhelmed; she had come here expecting the worst but just needing confirmation from him. Instead he had admitted to having had feelings for her for some time and to being too weak to walk away from her. It was everything and more that she'd ever wanted from him.

He had rested his head on her knees and she disentangled one hand from his so she could run her fingers through his hair, his curls had still not fully grown back after his disguise and she made it a priority in her mind to make sure he grew them back.

'I'm sure there is a lot in that confession that I should and will eventually feel angry about...but honestly I just feel too happy and too relieved to worry about that now.'

He looked up into her smiling face and waited nervously as she continued.

'You have just admitted for the first time that you have feelings for me, that you want to be with me. I know we haven't worked out the details of how that looks but...Sherlock, it's so much more than I had ever hoped for. So yes, I would very much like to take our relationship to the next level, when do we start?'

He smiled and knelt up a bit straighter, 'how about now?' And with that he captured her lips with his own. His hands coming up to her waist to pull her a little closer. Molly responded by putting her hands round his neck; playing with his hair. The kiss was slow and sultry, gradually becoming more passionate until they broke apart breathing heavily.

Molly smiled shyly, 'I think I'd like to go to the bedroom level next. What do you say?'

 **I know she should have had more of a go at him and I'm sure at some point she will but like us I think she's just ready for some sexy times with her man. Next chapter is the last one (sniff) I'll post it soon.**


	19. Chapter 19

**Here we are at the end of another fic. Each time I write a multi-chapter like this and post it to good responses I can't quite believe that I did it again and I couldn't have without all of your support. So thank you, this is for you. Just so you know, there is another in the pipeline which I'll start to post in the New Year. It's an occult based crime/romance and will be called 'Do What Thou Wilt' so look out for it. I'm also working on a few more chapters of my Vampire fic for those enjoying that one.**

 **And if you fancy something a bit fluffier then my Christmas fic 'All Molly Wants for Christmas' is well under way.**

 **Chapter 19**

Sherlock's response was simply to stand up before picking her up and carrying her bridal style into his bedroom. Molly laughed as he did holding onto his shoulders.

As he lay her on the bed, he suddenly frowned, 'hang on, I mean...shouldn't we wait? You're not fully recovered from your injury and I don't want to make it worse.'

Molly leant up and put her finger on his lips to shush him, 'it's fine, I will be fine. We'll just have to take things a bit slower that's all, be a bit more careful...but Sherlock, I've waited too long for this, I don't want to have to wait anymore.'

She opened her arms to him and he lay with her lying on her good side as they resumed their kiss. Bit by bit their clothing was removed until the only thing left was a small bandage on Molly's abdomen. His hands ghosted over her skin followed by his mouth. It was slow and sensual, both of them taking their time to explore the others body. Molly kissed every scar she found including the one in the centre of his chest from Mary's bullet. She had known about that for a while now and whilst she considered Mary a friend she wasn't sure she could ever quite forgive her for that one.

He kissed around her injury before his mouth and his sinfully good tongue moved lower. Toby had long since departed the bedroom by the time Molly experienced her first orgasm, crying out Sherlock's name as her fingers twined in his hair, his head between her thighs.

The smile he gave her afterwards as he licked her juices of his lips was one of the most erotic and arousing things Molly thought she had ever seen.

She pushed him onto his back soon after feeling that maybe it would be easier if she controlled the pace. She leant over him as her hand slid down to grasp his erection, she was about to 'return the favour', when he stopped her, his eyes so dark with lust she could barely make out any blue, 'please Molly, not this time. I just...I need to be in you...I want to feel connected to you.'

She changed her position so she was straddling his hips; then bent and kissed him, tasting herself still on his lips. She ached though to feel him inside her and soon held him in position at her entrance. As she lowered herself down onto him they both seemed to exhale recognising how good it felt to finally be together both physically as well as emotionally. Molly loved the feeling of having him inside her and even the thought of it had her pulse spiking and her arousal unfurling once more.

His hands slid from her thighs to her waist and he asked her if she was alright. Her stitches were pulling a little but it was nothing serious and Molly wanted to continue, needed to. She leant over him taking her weight on her arms as he brought his hands to her breasts bringing his mouth to each one it turn as she moved above him both of them letting out small moans and whispers as she did.

It wasn't long before their leisurely pace became more desperate. His hands on her ass pulling her onto him as he sucked and kissed at the base of her neck. Molly knew she was almost there, could feel herself about to come and knew Sherlock would soon follow. He pulled back, eyes piercing into her as he told her to come for him and that was all it took. She came crying out a stream of oh Gods and fucks and Sherlocks.

He buried himself deep inside her as he climaxed moments later and Molly knew she would never tire of seeing his face in the throws of an orgasm with her name on his lips.

As she slid to the side she had to mask a wince of pain knowing she may have been a little too ambitious but she didn't regret a thing. He hugged her too him as they caught their breath and she felt him press his lips to her forehead.

'I'll call John in a moment...'

Molly frowned and looked up at him, 'what? Why? To tell him we've just had sex?'

'Don't be ridiculous Molly. No, to check on your stitches, I think you've probably torn some. We shouldn't have done that so soon. No more now until you're a hundred per cent better.'

Molly grinned and mock saluted, 'yes sir, I'm glad we did though, no regrets here.'

She let her hand fall back onto his stomach and played with the hair leading down to his groin, watching his muscles tense and relax under her fingers.

'So where were you earlier?'

'Hmm?' he sounded almost half asleep.

She looked up at him seeing his eyes were closed, noticing how thin he looked and how tired. John had told her he was suffering and she was beginning to realise how much.

'When I got here, where were you?'

His mouth quirked up into a smile, 'I was at your flat Molly. I'd finally decided I needed to see you, to tell you how I felt and to beg you to be with me.'

Molly chuckled happily and kissed his chest. A moment later she heard his breathing level out and knew he was asleep. She contemplated getting up but realised that after all her sleepless nights recently she was tired herself so instead she pulled the covers over them both and slept feeling safer and more comfortable that she had in days.

MHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMH

Three weeks later and Molly's head felt like it was still running to catch up with her heart. Sherlock had been true to his word and had refused to have sex with her until her doctors had signed her off as fully well. It hadn't stopped some rather heavy petting sessions and it was during one of these, when Molly had glanced at her watch to see if she should go home, that Sherlock had asked her to move in with him.

Molly had prevaricated for a bit; worrying that maybe they were rushing into their relationship too fast, but when Sherlock had set his mind on something he was not an easy man to dissuade.

He kissed her neck knowing how much she liked it, 'come on Molly, you know it makes sense...where else would you rather be than in my bed?'

More kisses followed as his fingers trailed up her leg, 'it's closer to Barts, Toby's already happy here and we both know the reason you haven't taken him home with you is you like to use him as an excuse to be here.'

Molly gave a non-committal hum, so Sherlock continued in a wheedling tone, 'I want you here, you know I want you here, not just in my bed but in my life. I need you Molly...please.'

How could she deny him? So here she was overseeing the relocation of her belongings and wondering where Sherlock had sloped off too. It wasn't too much work though, most of her furniture came with the flat so it was mainly just clothes and books that needed transporting and sorting.

Eventually it was all done and Molly managed to get a last minute appointment with her doctor, she wanted everything to be settled for her first night in residence at Baker St.

'Yes Molly you're good to go. I don't think we need to see you again unless you have any issues. Your stitches are starting to dissolve; the wound area is healing nicely. Just try not to run into any more knives in future.' The elderly doctor laughed at his own joke but Molly just rolled her eyes thanking him for fitting her in at late notice.

As she left the surgery she texted Sherlock, _Fully moved in and fully healed. Where are you? Molly x_

A minute later she received her response, _I'm in our home...wish you were here. Sx_

She smiled happily and hailed a cab. Living with Sherlock also had the perk of shared rent so she had more money for treats.

Ten minutes later she made her way up the stairs glad to see that Mrs Hudson appeared to be out. The fire was burning in the hearth, warming the flat and Sherlock was stood in front of it wearing a housecoat over his suit trousers and playing his violin. As she came in he changed what he was playing and she recognised the tune as _No Place like Home_.

She hung her coat and bag up and kicked off her shoes before walking over to join him. He ditched the violin and opened his arms to receive her as she got closer. Their kiss was passionate fueled by almost three weeks of abstinence. Sherlock groaned into her mouth pulling her against him before his mouth dropped to her throat, 'you have no idea of the things I want to do to you Molly. I hope you've stocked up on food because I have no plans to leave anytime soon.' His fingers were making quick work of the buttons on her shirt as he spoke and he was soon pushing it off her shoulders along with her cardigan.

His hands ghosted over her shoulders and down her arms before he reached behind her to undo her cranberry coloured bra, he'd told her about his incorrect deduction about her underwear so she'd made a show of wearing all her dark and black underwear knowing how much he liked it.

As soon as her bra was removed his mouth was on her breast biting and nipping and teasing as his hands kneaded her backside. She wasn't getting on so well with his clothing though. He wasn't helping at all when it came to her undressing him.

Slowly he moved them towards the wall by the entrance to the flat and as her back hit it she tangled her hands in his hair for support. His hand was in her pants now his fingers sliding over her clit until he could enter her using the heel of his hand to stimulate her as his fingers thrust inside her.

'Oh God Sherlock, that feels so good.' As Molly's head fell back against the wall enjoying the slow buildup of her arousal he kissed her once more letting his tongue explore her mouth. Molly moved her hands back to his shirt buttons but once again he stopped her.

She pulled away in confusion but her just smiled and shook his head bending his lips to her ear he whispered, 'I want to fuck you against this wall and I want to be dressed whilst you're naked. Is that OK?'

Molly felt a flood of heat to her groin and her muscles convulsed around his fingers. She didn't trust herself to speak so just nodded in agreement; mewling slightly as he withdrew his hand so he could finish stripping her.

As she leant against the wall he pulled back from her momentarily so he could open his trousers and release his erection. She couldn't help but bite her lip and she looked down at him as he stroked himself lazily; then they were kissing again and Sherlock was lifting her as though she weighed nothing at all.

She wrapped her legs around his hips and he used one hand to guide himself into her. Feeling him filling her after so long was almost painful. She gasped and clung to him knowing it wouldn't take much for her to come. It was all just made so much more erotic by him being fully dressed and her being nude. She could feel the rough scrape of his trousers against her legs and the cotton of his expensive shirt rubbing her breasts.

As he started to thrust into her she cried out feeling pulses of pleasure washing through her, she could hear him telling her how good she felt and how hard he was and his voice just succeeded in once again sending her over the edge into her climax taking him along with her.

As they finished Sherlock slid to his knees holding her to him still connected together intimately. She could feel him still pulsing even as his breathing started to even back out.

They kissed again more leisurely; then Sherlock withdrew before picking her up and carrying her through to the bedroom. After laying her in the bed he stripped of his own clothes before joining her.

She lay looking up at him enjoying seeing how happy and open he looked. She had come so close to losing him to his own fear and she was so glad he had changed his mind. She knew being with him could and would be dangerous but her life without him was meaningless.

'I deduce Miss Hooper that you are thinking how lucky you are to be here.'

Molly gasped in shock at his arrogance before he continued, 'but you're not half as lucky as I am to have you. I'm sorry I wasted so many years and I'm sorry I almost let you go. I promise I will always be here for you Molly...always.'

She stroked his cheek with her thumb, 'you'd better. I can't lose you now, I won't. Now come here and kiss me Mr Holmes.'

He smiled down at her with so much love in his eyes that it took her breath away before he obliged her in a kiss which held the promise of so much more to come.

 **And there we leave them, all wrapped up in each other. So now do me a favour, pretty please, and leave me one last review.**

 **Until next time...**


End file.
